Disconnected
by SableUnstable
Summary: REPOST! NEWLY EDITED AND REWORKED! Fred is dead. And George can't handle it. So he does the only thing he can think of to make it all better, inadvertently dragging one bushy-haired witch along for the ride. The device, however, ends up sending them back a lot further than he'd anticipated, landing them in a world of trouble. Can they resist the temptation? See warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Disconnected  
**  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the canonical aspects or characters in the Harry Potter franchise.

 **Warnings:** Female/male and male/male relationships (het and slash). Strong language. Sexual situations and content, both het and slash. Violence. Sexual assault.

 **A/N:** As stated in the summary, this is a repost. I originally had 32 chapters written and posted, but I took it down because I reread it after a long hiatus and was appalled by the spelling and grammar mistakes, cheesy lines, and the blatant plot holes. Hopefully I'll be fixing most of that, but as I do not have an all-seeing eye, you will probably come across something I've missed more than once during the course of the repost. And lastly, although it won't be anything more than simple editing and reworked subplots (I think), I'll give an overview of what's been changed at the beginning of every prewritten chapter to try and avoid confusion. In this first chapter's case, it's just sentence structure and the occasional word and sentence replacement.

Right, that's enough from me. Please do enjoy the newer and hopefully better version of this story, and don't forget to let me know what you think! Oh, and come find me on Twitter (SableUnstable) to keep up to date on my nonexistent posting schedule! ;)

* * *

 **Chapter One.  
**

* * *

 _The air was filled with dust and debris. Spells shot left, right and centre, screams of pain and desperation accompanying every wave of a wand. He ran as fast as he could, his lungs constricting and his heart thumping as he ducked and dodged, firing off random spells when he had to. His eyes shot from place to place, probing every inch of the battlefield; searching._

 _Always searching. Desperately searching._

 _Where was he? Where was he? They'd been together from the moment the battle had begun, until they'd separated. Now something was wrong. He could feel it._

 _Something was going to happen._

 _Something bad._

 _He blasted a Death Eater out of his way, ignoring the sting on his shoulder where a spell found its mark. He had to find him. He had to!_

 _A sob choked in his throat as he spun around in a circle, searching, searching, searching. And then there he was. Standing tall and proud, a silly grin on his face, aimed at their older brother. He sighed in relief, heart settling a little. There he was. Just there._

 _His settling heart exploded in his chest as the one he'd been searching for was suddenly no longer standing just there. Instead, he was on the ground. Lying on the ground, covered in concrete, blood trickling from his mouth._

 _Staring._

 _Staring, but not seeing anything._

 _Just staring._

 _No._

 _No. No._

 _NO!_

 _FRED!_

"FRED!"

George Weasley's scream echoed off the walls as he shot up in bed, fear and grief pulsing through his veins as his breath rattled in his lungs. His eyes bulleted around the room, searching, as he had in his dream. His nightmare.

Always searching.

But there was nothing to find. His twin was dead. He'd died in the final battle. Not killed by a Death Eater, but by a falling wall. Crushed to death under a pile of rock and stone. His breath lodged itself in his throat, escaping in short pants as his panic escalated to unbearable levels. His hands came up to clutch at his head, his knees drew up, and George began to rock, eyes screwed shut tight.

Fred. Fred. Fred. Oh Merlin, Fred!

Dry sobs shook his body, one that most people would've described as scarily thin. His traitorous heart screamed in his chest, expanding and beating so rapidly, he thought he was going to die from the sound of it. He wanted to die from the sound of it. A gurgling, keening groan escaped his lips, filling the silent room, and he flinched away from the sound.

Why couldn't it have been him? Why couldn't it have been him?

His head shot around as his door crashed open and his mother ran into room, Ginny and Hermione right behind her. Molly was at his side in an instant, her arms immediately circling him in an attempt to comfort. It didn't work.

"George. Georgie, Georgie. It's all right. It's okay. It was only a dream. Only a dream, baby boy. I'm here. I'm here."

"No it wasn't," George croaked, cringing away from her. "It wasn't just a dream. He's dead. Fred's dead."

A sob escaped Molly before she could prevent it.

"I know, love. I know he is. And I'm sorry. I'm so very sorry. I'm here. I'm here."

George's hands dropped to fall onto the bed, and he stared down at them as his mother rocked him from side to side, crooning little words and nonsense sounds that were meant to make him feel better. They didn't. Nothing could. The only thing that could make him feel better was having his twin back. And that wasn't going to happen.

 _Isn't it?_

The thought crept like a thick fog through his brain, blanketing and asphyxiating until it'd even managed to dim the crippling grief. Resolve abruptly solidified into a rock hard decision, the half-formed idea trailing the thought now fully formed and pulsing brightly. Because that'd been the last straw. He couldn't handle it anymore. He just couldn't.

Not anymore.

He blinked as a small pair of hands entered his narrow line of vision and took his own hands, tugging on them until his head came up. He stared at his little sister, who had crawled up onto the bed beside him and was now cradling his hands against her cheek. Tears silently poured down over them, and something other than resolve shifted and woke a little in his chest. He didn't want his sister crying. He hated seeing her upset.

With this in mind, he tried his best to give the impression that he was okay. He tried to pretend that he wasn't dead inside, right along with his twin. His hand turned in her grasp until he was cupping her cheek, and he sent her the best imitation of a smile he could.

"Don't cry, midget. It'll be okay," he whispered hoarsely. A wide smile broke across Ginny's face at his words, and she leaned into his hand. His grief dimmed just a tiny bit more at the movement. He'd made her smile. That was good.

Fred would've been proud.

Pain tore through him again and his face twisted. He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. If he didn't at least give the impression that he'd be able to handle the rest of the night on his own, his mother would never leave the room. And while he loved his mother with everything he had left in him, her constant presence was smothering, and only served to extend his grief.

Not that he'd ever tell her that. She was reacting the only way she knew how.

"I'm fine now, Mum. You can go back to bed. All of you can," he said in a dull voice. Molly frowned at him, her hand gently brushing back his unruly mess of red hair. He needed a haircut.

"Are you sure, Georgie? I can stay," she asked softly. George nodded, his gaze fixed on the wall in front of him.

"No, go. You need to sleep. I'll be fine," he whispered.

"I can stay, George," Ginny murmured. He met her eyes and slowly shook his head.

"No, love. You need to sleep as well. Harry won't be happy with me if you collapse from exhaustion," he said with another weak semblance of a smile. Ginny rolled her eyes and Hermione's quiet chuckle filled the grief-heavy room.

"He's right, Gin. Let's leave him be, yeah? He'll be fine," she said with a smile and pointed look at Molly, who looked pained, but nodded and finally released her death-grip on her son. George moved his shoulders in relief and nodded gratefully at the younger witch, who smiled back.

"Okay then. Let's all get some sleep. I'll make you a full English for breakfast tomorrow. How's that sound, Georgie?" Molly suggested gently, still caressing his hair.

"Great Mum," George answered, both of them pretending that if she made it, he might actually eat it. Molly sighed and stepped back, holding her hand out to her youngest.

"Try and get some sleep, George, please," Ginny pleaded quietly, laying her head against his shoulder. George sighed and rested his cheek on top of it.

"I'll try," he whispered, and Ginny's arms came round him, squeezing him tightly, before she pulled back, climbed off the bed and took her mother's hand. With one last look, mother and daughter left the room, both pairs of shoulders slumped.

Hermione was about to follow them when George's voice stopped her. She turned back around and looked at him questionably, her bushy brown hair mussed further from sleep.

"Can you stay for a bit? I want to… talk."

Hermione blinked, her surprise at his request clear in her expressive brown eyes. George was sure she was wondering what he wanted to talk about, and with him of all people. The twins and their brother's friend and paramour had never really been very close. They were just too different. The extent of their relationship consisted of her yelling at them for testing products on first-years, or when said products gave her a black eye.

"Sure, George," she said as she sat down on the edge of the bed, curiosity peeking out from behind a bland expression. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Your time-turner," he said bluntly, and Hermione's eyes widened in astonishment before her face utterly shut down.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she stated flatly. George rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"Sure you don't, 'Mione," he said, calling her by the name he and Fred had quite often heard Ron use. Hermione blinked, emotion trickling back into her eyes at the familiar name coming from an unfamiliar source. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. It's the thing you're wearing around your neck at this very moment, and have been wearing since Dumbledore left it to you. I bet Harry and Ron don't know about that little gift, do they?" he accused softly.

Hermione's eyes widened further and her hand automatically came up to clutch at her chest, before she seemed to realize what she was doing and dropped it again. Her eyes narrowed at him.

"You're right, they don't. So how do you?" she asked, no longer bothering to keep up the pretence. A ghost of a smile touched George's lips and his ocean-blue eyes blurred with memories.

"Extendable Ears are brilliant things," he said simply. Hermione scowled when he didn't say anything more, huffing at the explanation that didn't really explain a thing.

"Fine. What about it then?" she asked. George's eyes cleared and he met her gaze determinedly.

"Dumbledore must have given it to you for a reason," he stated, staring hard. Hermione frowned for a long moment, confusion running rampant across her features, before realization dawned and her eyes widened in horror.

"Oh Merlin, George, _no_! Get that thought out of your head right now! You can't!"

"Why not?" George demanded. "Just far enough to pull him out of the way!"

"No. No, no, no, no! You can't George! You really _can't_! Playing with time is very, very dangerous! You could destroy everything!"

"Everything's destroyed anyway!" he shouted, before swallowing hard and taking a deep breath. He did not want his mother running back into the room. "So many people died, Hermione!" he continued in a quieter but no less hard voice. "Professor Lupin, Tonks, Sirius, and many, many more! I'm not asking to go back and change all that! Just him! Just F-Fred!"

His voice broke and he pressed his lips together and looked away, blinking rapidly. He would not break down. Not when he needed everything he had to get his point across to the annoyingly stubborn goody-two-shoes sitting in front of him.

"So much light left the world a month ago. Why not bring one little patch back? Cheer up this whole family, so that we're not all walking around like we're dead as well?"

Pain and panic skittered across Hermione's face, and her mouth twisted into a conflicted grimace. Her hands shook as they reached up to tug at her hair.

"George, oh Godric, I can't! I'm so sorry, but I can't! You have no idea what it could do! Who might end up dying instead!" she moaned, eyes closed.

Which, of course, meant that she didn't see the dark, single-minded expression that twisted George's face into something unrecognizable.

"I don't really think I was asking for your permission."

Hermione's head shot up, her eyes opening in shock at his deceptively calm statement. She shrieked as the only surviving Weasley twin lunged at her, her hand scrambling for her wand.

"No! George, don't!" she screeched as the redhead landed on top of her, both of them tumbling back off the bed and hitting the floor with a solid thump.  
George bared his teeth and clawed at her throat, rage filling him. It was a simple month! Why wouldn't she _cooperate_?

Hermione sobbed with fear and desperation as she tried to push him away, tried to stop him from reaching the thing that could make everything even worse. Her efforts were futile however. George was bigger and stronger than she was, even in his debilitated state. He was able to bat her hands away with ease and he soon had the time-turner out from under her nightshirt. He sat up the instant he had, staring at it eagerly.

"No, no, George, please, don't," Hermione begged. George ignored her, turning the tiny instrument over in his hands.

That is until he got a face full of wand.

His head came up slowly and he stared at the terrified witch whose wand was shaking in her hand. She was balancing on her knees and one hand, her head pulled towards him by the chain around her neck. George swallowed.

"Would you really use that one me, 'Mione?" he whispered. A sob hitched and shuddered out of her at his words, but her wand didn't move, and neither did the resolve in her eyes. George's own eyes widened as he realized that yes, she would use it one him.

Hermione Granger had helped save the world once; she wasn't going to hesitate to do it again. Not if her friends and loved ones were threatened.

Desperation filled him and he jerked the Turner towards him, scrambling to twist it in time, before a hex prevented him. Hermione shrieked again as the door burst open and shouts filled the room. She frantically tried to stop herself from falling forward onto him, having no luck, her pitch forward pushing him backwards and knocking his hand, tangling them together as people dived in their direction.

Her fall made the time-turner spin.

And spin. And spin.

The world began to spin as well, and George gulped, his arms tightening around Hermione. It was working! He had to go! He had to go _now_!

Within the rapidly spinning world, George twisted on the spot, apparating with a sharp _crack._ And then both him, and the brightest witch of her age, were gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disconnected** **  
**  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the canonical aspects or characters in the Harry Potter franchise.

 **Warnings:** Female/male and male/male relationships (het and slash). Strong language. Sexual situations and content, both het and slash. Violence. Sexual assault.

 **A/N:** Second chapter! The first subplot rewrite begins in this chapter, and I changed a hell of a lot of the general content as well, though the storyline remains the same. Please enjoy, and thank you all so much for the immense renewed interest! :)

 _Within the rapidly spinning world, George twisted on the spot, apparating with a sharp_ _crack._ _And then both him, and the brightest witch of her age, were gone._

* * *

 **Chapter Two.**

* * *

Remus Lupin walked along the silent halls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, slumping slightly as he tried to get back to his common room as quickly as possible. It was two o'clock in the morning and he wasn't in a very good mood. Having spent most of the afternoon and evening shut up in the library with Lily, getting desperately needed help with his potions study, he didn't really appreciate being dragged out of a bed he'd only fallen into a couple of hours previous.

He scowled to himself as he headed up the stairs, praying that they wouldn't decide to move on him. This was all Sirius's fault. The only reason he should be up this late was if he was up studying for NEWTs, and as he'd already done more than his scheduled quota that day, in _potions_ no less, he'd really needed the recharge sleep provided. Instead, here he was, having to go out and cover one of his best mates' arses, because in his haste to get some girl's knickers, he'd forgotten the most important rule of travelling the castle at night.

Never leave without the Map.

Shaking his head, he turned a sharp right and yanked on a tapestry cord, quickly making use of one of the school's many secret passages. He'd managed to agitate Peeves enough to created a diversion, risking getting caught by Filch in the process, just so that Sirius and his companion were able to sneak out the broom closet on the fifth floor they were stuck in, half dressed, without getting caught themselves. Never mind the fact that he was a prefect, so he should have been the one doing the catching. Had James not been such a deep sleeper, he wouldn't have been out at all!

He sighed. All that trouble, just for a bit of female. It didn't make sense to Remus. Couldn't he give it a rest for once? He blinked at that thought, laughing aloud before remembering that he was all but invisible, so laughing wasn't such a good idea. Granted, it probably wouldn't matter much, as random, invisible laughter wasn't really something out of the ordinary at Hogwarts, but he didn't want to take any chances.

 _And the day Sirius Black gives girls a rest, is the day the world comes to an end,_ he thought wryly, passing empty classroom after empty classroom. _Besides, Mr Lupin, you certainly wouldn't say no if Andrew Garlow asked you out for a midnight stroll, now would you? It was your choice to go help! Stop being so grumpy!_

Remus frowned. Why did his inner voice sound so much like their stalwart Head Girl?

 _Because she's the most sensible person I know. Well, she is until James comes into the picture._

He chuckled to himself, the fear of invisible laughter forgotten as years of outrageous displays from James and screaming rebukes from Lily played through his mind. James Potter and Lily Evans were certainly an enigma. Although, come to think of it, she did seem to be softening a bit, now that James had abruptly matured.

Losing your father would do that to you.

The thought had Remus's stomach twisting with something he'd never admit to being pity. It had been hard for James over the summer. Charlus Potter's death had been very sudden, and the shock and sorrow had still been lingering around him when he'd started the new year. Lily, his persistent, much loved crush, had been one of the first to notice, which Remus had found both surprising and wonderfully amusing, considering how much she claimed to hate the Head Boy. You could've heard Lily's shout from one of the train to the other when the redheaded girl had found out who her fellow Head was.

James hadn't reacted to that less than happy backlash, which had been the first of many out of character incidents that had only increased as the year had progressed. Remus knew that it was utterly baffling James's obsession, as was the considerable reduction in James asking her out.

In the past, James had asked Lily to be his girlfriend at least once a day. Now, it was barely once a week, if that. That unexpected turn of events had had a surprisingly effect on the redhead, so that she was now the one who seemed to be everywhere James went instead of the other way around.

Remus smiled, more than a little cheered. Maybe there was hope for them yet.

He was just about to turn the final corner and approach the entrance to Gryffindor's common room, when a loud _crack_ suddenly rent the silence, followed by a tinkling sound, like breaking glass. He froze mid-step. That'd sounded a lot like apparition, which wasn't at all possible. You couldn't apparate anywhere on Hogwarts grounds. Everyone knew that.

So why did it sound like someone had just broken one of Hogwarts' only unbreakable rules?

Spinning around, he ran back in the direction the sound had come from, curiosity piqued. The closer he got, the more his confusion grew. He could hear someone talking, a teenage girl by the sounds of it, and with knowing a wide variety of students from all four houses, it puzzled him that wasn't a voice he recognized.

"Oh no. Oh, no, no, no! Bloody hell, George, look what you've done! Look! I don't even know where we are! How are we going to get home?"

"We're at Hogwarts! Come on!" a second voice answered, sounding tired, desperate, and distinctly male.

"Well, of course we're at Hogwarts!" the female voice replied, now sounding exasperated. "And stop it, we're not going anywhere! We're here, but the question is, wh-"

Remus interrupted the conversation by rounding the corner, a move that startled the two voices and made him come to a dead stop. Directly in front of him was a wand, the tip pointing right at his nose. He gaped silently at it, feeling his eyes beginning to cross, before looking up to see who was threatening him.

His mouth fell open further as he stared into the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

They were mesmerizing. Direct and intense, and so incredibly full of life that they took Remus's breath away. His brain shut down and he stared, gobsmacked, only managing to pull himself out of the deep blue pools when the owner allowed it by flicking his eyes over him and frowning. The wand didn't move.

"Who are you and where's the battle?" he demanded. Remus frowned as well, and since he was now able to breathe again, quickly returned the look. What he saw shocked him.

The person holding the wand was clearly far from healthy. He was practically skin and bone, his frame jutting at unnatural angles, his pallor yellowish in tint. Freckles dotted his skin, a strange combination of typical dark brown and red, and an atypical washed out, pale peachy colour that only made his emasculated appearance look worse. His visage defined the term 'sickly', and Remus looked away, confused as to why that fact made him so uncomfortable. He personally knew what sickly meant, after all. Needing a distraction, he looked up, and found himself gaping once more.

The only other thing that seemed alive about the man apart from his eyes was the hair falling all over his forehead. It was the colour of fire, thick and healthy, an almost outrageous contrast to the person who owned it. Remus stared at it in astonishment, randomly wondering if it as heated and silky as it looked. The thought caught him so off guard that it snapped him back to reality.

 _For Merlin's sake, Remus, pull yourself together,_ he scolded himself, eyes shifting back to focus on the wand still pointed at him. _Your life could be in danger here, stop acting like an idiot!_

"Answer me!" the man yelled angrily, those fascinating eyes narrowing to slits. "Who the bloody hell are you and where is the battle?"

"What battle? There hasn't been a battle here in centuries! And I should be asking who _you_ are, not the other way around! How can you even see me?" Remus demanded, his own temper stirring. The man frowned at him again, his eyes snapping up to search the hallway urgently before focusing back on Remus, just as the Gryffindor was reaching for his wand.

"Don't move!" he bellowed. "You're not going to trick me! I know it's here, just as he is! Where is it? _Tell me!"_

The last part of the sentence came out in an almost broken sob, and at that point, the girl re-entered the conversation. She reached out and latched on to the man's wand arm, tugging at it in desperation.

"George, stop! Please, you have to calm down! If you actually looked around, you'd notice that this isn't what you wanted it to be! The battle isn't here, I don't think it will be for a very long time, and he isn't here either!"

Some of her words seemed to filter into the man's mind. He froze, his wand point still on Remus, his eyes darting over to meet hers. Remus took the opportunity to palm own wand, gripping it firmly but keeping it pressed against his thigh. Something obviously wasn't right with the situation, but he wasn't going to do anything drastic unless the threat level went up, or he figured out what was going on.

Tuning back into the conversation, he watched the girl tug at the man's arm as she tried to talk him down, her words rapid but gentle.

"Something went wrong, we went too far. I think no matter how hard you look, you're not going to find the battle or its results. And you're not going to find Fred either."

"He's… not here?" the man, _George_ , whispered. Remus's brow furrowed as he spoke those words. He sounded heartbroken. Lost, empty, and so very young. It sounded wrong somehow.

"No, George. I'm so sorry, but no. He's not."

The sound that tore from the man's throat at her answer sent chills down Remus's spine. It was like the howl of a wounded animal, long and drawn out, and it contained so much grief it that it made Remus's throat tighten. His heart began to ache in sympathy as the man ended on a whimper, and the wand held against him fell.

Not ten seconds before its owner did.

The broken man's leg gave out, and the girl let out a small cry of fright as her arms sprang up to circle him, both of them falling to the floor in a tangled mess of limbs. Remus watched them fall with wide eyes, shocked at the level of disappointment he felt when all that fire literally _drained_ from the man's eyes, leaving them cold and hollow. Blank.

Lifeless.

He was still trying to get his head around that abrupt and distressing change when the girl sighed and suddenly lifted her head, looking directly at him. Remus jolted and frowned again, shaking off his unease. How were they able to see him? And more importantly, why was he still standing there? He should be getting Professor Dumbledore, or McGonagall at the very least! The man, a stranger, had held a wand on him!

"I know that this is probably the last thing you want to do after having a wand in your face, but I'd really appreciate it if you would give me a hand to get him to the Hospital Wing," the girl said quietly. A muscle in Remus's jaw jumped as he stared down at her.

"How in Merlin's name can you see me?" he demanded. The girl smiled wistfully.

"You'd be surprised at the things I can do," she said. "But, please, I really do need to get him there and I don't know the way. He's really very sick. Please, Remus, you have to help me."

Looking the man over, pity swelled, and Remus sighed and crouched down, calling himself all kinds of fool as his soft heart got the better of him. It was clear that the man was very unwell, and maybe not just physically. He couldn't just leave him lying there. It wouldn't be right.

A fool he may be, yes. But he wasn't stupid.

"I never told you my name," he stated quietly, eyeing the two strangers. The girl's eyes widened and she swallowed hard before throwing him a nervous smile.

"I know you didn't, but it's right there. On your badge," she said, nodding at his chest. Remus frowned and looked down, stomach lurching sharply. She was right. It _was_ right there.

 _Remus Lupin. Prefect._

His frown deepened as confusion ran through him. Since when had his prefect badge had his name on it? Since when had _any p_ refect badge had _anyone's_ names on them?

Something was most definitely up.

He raised his head again and looked into the girl's eyes. "Who _are_ you?" he whispered. The girl sighed.

"My name is Hermione and this is George, my, ah, brother," she said, indicating the deathly silent man she was still holding. A sandy-blond brow rose. Her brother? They looked _nothing_ alike.

Ignoring his disbelieving expression, the girl continued.

"We aren't bad people, far from it, believe me, and what George did to you, he only did because he's grieving and sick. He would've never maliciously set out to hurt you; he isn't that kind of person. He believes in retribution, but only when it's deserved, and I'm sure he'll apologize when he's able to, but right now we really need the Hospital Wing. If you would be so kind to escort us, I'd be in your debt."

Remus pressed his lips together and searched her eyes. They seemed sincere enough, but that could just mean she was a good actor; able to pull off the current earnest, world-weary and scared expression without batting an eyelid. Then again, why would someone with a malevolent intentions put so much thought into their backstory? Once they were in, wouldn't they use the opportunity to attack right there and then? And why would they want to go to the _Hospital Wing_ of all places?

 _They really don't look like the eyes of a Death Eater,_ he thought, gut twisting in indecision.

"Please? If not for me, then for George?"

The werewolf's breath left him in a rush, and he clenched his jaw, annoyed that the indecision could be smoothed out so easily. He slowly stood back up and raised his wand, making the girl flinch and let out a small sound of protest. Relief collapsed her shoulders when instead of attacking her, he silently removed his Disillusionment and then conjured a stretcher.

"Thank you," she whispered in a shaky voice. "I don't know… just thank you."

It didn't take as much convincing to get the man on the stretcher as Remus thought it would''ve. He didn't make a sound as the girl helped him to his feet. His eyes were scarily vacant, and Remus looked away, swallowing hard, that solid knot of baffling dismay and unease once again sitting heavily in his stomach. The man lay down on the stretcher at the girl's soft encouragement, and while the girl took the back, wand in hand, Remus headed to the front. He picked the stretcher up, thanking his foresight for casting a charm that made their load as light as air, and began walking down the hallway, the girl following behind.

The only obstacle they came across on the way wasn't really an obstacle at all, which Remus found incredibly lucky. It wouldn't do to run into any other prefects during their confrontation turned rescue mission. The crunch sounded tinny and fragile, making him stop and frown down at his feet, to see glass and tiny bits of golden metal spread across the floor. Remus angled his head in consideration, trying to figure out what it was he'd stepped in, before shrugging and flicking his wand over the mess, vanishing it in an instant. The girl behind him made a funny little sound as he did, but when he looked back over his shoulder, her gaze was on the man on the stretcher. The only thing he could read in her eyes was concern.

For some reason, during the long but short trip to the Infirmary, Remus found himself copying her. His head turned on its own accorded and he continuously glanced over his shoulder at their patient, little pinpricks of relief buzzing to life in his chest with every glance. Because even though he gave the appearance of the opposite, the rising and falling of his torso proved that, yes, the man _was_ still alive.

Although, with the deep-seated vacancy in his eyes, he might just be wishing he wasn't.

* * *

 **A/N:** Don't forget to look me up on Twitter (my pen name is my user name), and more importantly, don't forget to let me know what you think! ;D


	3. Chapter 3

**Disconnected.** **  
**  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the canonical aspects or characters in the Harry Potter franchise.

 **Warnings:** Female/male and male/male relationships (het and slash). Strong language. Sexual situations and content, both het and slash. Violence. Sexual assault.

 **A/N:** Hello all! We see the beginning of the next major subplot change in this chapter, as well as quite a bit of rewriting once again. I do hope you enjoy, and please do come find me on Twitter _and_ tumblr (I keep forgetting to plug that site, lol) to keep up to date on writing progress, ask questions and any other such things that I deem important and interesting. My user name is my pen name on both sites.

Alrighty then, let's get on with it, and don't forget to let me know what you think! :)

 _Although, with the deep-seated vacancy in his eyes, he might just be wishing he wasn't._

* * *

 **Chapter Three.**

* * *

Hermione chewed her bottom lip as they walked through the unusually silent and empty corridors of her old school. Worry and alarm were fluttering madly in her head, which was making it hard to concentrate, and she knew she was going to need to concentrate if they were going to pull themselves out of the mess they'd found themselves in. She was incredibly conscious of where they were, the familiar floors and hallways having hardly changed despite being intact and completely undamaged in this time, and one look at them _and_ the boy holding the other end of the stretcher had the worry swelling until she thought she was going to have to stop to get her breath back.

They'd travelled back in time. _Properly_ back in time, not just an hour or three like in third year. And if they put a foot out of line, they could change things – important things – irreversibly. It was a crazy and unimaginable concept, and it had a shocked hiccup of laughter escaping, the plot from _Back to the Future_ winding through the anxiety until it felt like she didn't have enough space in her head to contain all her panicked thoughts. Where was the DeLorean when you needed it?

She knew that changing the past had been George's intention when he'd pulled his foolhardy stunt. He had been, and still was, out of his mind with grief, and he was probably physically sick as well, with the amount of weight he'd lost and the lack of decent, dream-free sleep over the last month. He hadn't been thinking of the big picture – he hadn't been thinking at all – when he'd lunged at her in a desperate attempt to get his twin back. But Hermione was _very_ good at thinking of the big picture. It was one of the reasons why the twins had always thought she walked around with a stick up her backside, though they'd used considerably cruder language in their description.

That 'big picture' loomed now, and glancing down at the redhead on the stretcher didn't make her feel any better. His silence was complete, his closed eyes hiding his blank, unnatural expression for now, and it was honestly freaking her out a little. Taking being carried around like a docile little lamb was _not_ in George Weasley's character. It wasn't in _any_ Weasley's character, least of all one of the trouble-making twins. Dread twisted in her stomach, and she reached out to brush back his hair, studying his face, unable to help wondering if what he was going through was normal grief or something darker and more sinister.

Many, many people had died during the course of the war. And yet, despite that, she'd never seen anyone grieve as hard as George currently was. Not even Harry had shown this kind of… she couldn't even think of a word for it. Then again, she'd never lived constantly in someone else's back pocket, the second half of a what most people considered a whole; what she suspected they themselves considered a whole. She knew George now felt incomplete with Fred gone, so perhaps they should've expected something like this to happen?

Sighing, she ran her hand through his hair again and then patted his shoulder, the pity she was feeling not really allowing her anger at George for getting them into this situation to come to much more than annoyance. At least for now. For now, her two main concerns were making sure George got the care he needed, and figuring out a way to get them home.

Because they _would_ be going home. Plain and simple.

The decision brought with it an accepting calm, and with her mind set, she glanced up to see how far they had to go and caught Remus looking back over his shoulder at her. His gaze flicked back to the hallway in front of him rather quickly, but not before she saw the suspicious in his eyes. She frowned at the back of his head, her bottom lip once again back between her teeth.

To look around and see George pointing his wand at a many-years-younger Remus Lupin had completely thrown her for a loop. However, it had helped as well. Professor Lupin – _Remus_ , he wasn't a professor yet – had gone to Hogwarts in the seventies, so at least she had a slight idea of what time they were in. She could have kicked herself for that faux pas with his name earlier though. If she hadn't thought quickly and transfigured his badge… but she had, so it was no use worrying about it now.

She was just thinking that she needed to get in contact with the headmaster about sorting out another time-turner ASAP, when Remus stopped.

"We're here," he said quietly, looking back over his shoulder again. He pushed open the large doors and led the way into the room, Hermione feeling a little relieved when she saw the familiar rows of beds. The wing hadn't changed much since she'd last seen it, and neither it seems, had its matron. Despite the late hour, Madam Pomfrey was standing just outside her office, talking quietly with… Hermione gasped.

"Professor Dumbledore!" she blurted before suddenly realizing what she'd said and only just stopping herself from slapping her hand over her mouth. Merlin, she was daft! She wasn't supposed to know who he was!

The wizened old wizard looked over and smiled at her briefly, his faded blue eyes brimming with curiosity. Both he and Madam Pomfrey hurried over as Hermione and Remus put George on one of the beds.

"Hello my dear," Dumbledore said. "Welcome to Hogwarts."

"You know who she is, professor?" Remus asked, looking between the girl and his headmaster.

"Indeed," he said, making Hermione stare at him. "I think Madam Pomfrey has it from here, Mr Lupin. You may go back to your dormitory."

"Oh… but I was thinking-"

"It's late Mr Lupin. Far too late for you to be out of bed. You need your rest," Dumbledore said pointedly. Remus frowned, his eyes going to from Hermione to George and then back again. A grimace on his face, he nodded.

"I hope he feels better soon," he said, compassion and sympathy in his voice. Hermione smiled at him.

"I hope so too. Thank you for your help," she said as the matron bustled around the bed, mumbled words like 'malnourished' and 'dehydrated'. Remus nodded again, before glancing at George and then looking back at the headmaster one last time. When Dumbledore smiled at him, the teenager sighed and headed for the exit, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as the doors closed behind him.

She looked over as the mediwitch waved her wand, conjuring a multitude of bottles and began slowly feeding them to George. The redhead wasn't putting up in fight at being force-fed. His eyes had opened when the stretcher had merged with the bed, and he was currently staring blankly at the opposite wall – functioning when he had to, but otherwise not showing any animation at all. It was very disquieting.

"How long has he been like this? And what led to it?" the matron asked, looking at Hermione. The bushy-haired witch frowned.

"He lost a… a brother a month ago. They were very close, as close as siblings can get, and he's taking it really hard. He stopped eating anything but what was forced on him around about the same time, and he hasn't been getting much sleep either. I've never seen him shut down like this before though," she said, eyeing George's slumped and submissive posture worriedly.

Madam Pomfrey nodded. "It's a terrible thing to lose someone you love, and different people handle it in different ways," she said, still fussing over her patient. George didn't acknowledge her at all.

"Will he be okay?" Hermione asked.

"We'll deal with the physical symptoms first, and then work on the emotional. The physical are bad enough that they take precedence," the mediwitch answered, looking over at the headmaster. "He'll have to be here a couple of days so I can concentrate on getting him up to a healthy body weight again, but this is all I can do at the moment. That last potion should put him to sleep. If you don't mind, I'll retire."

"Yes, of course, Poppy, thank you," the headmaster answered, smiling at the his staff member. The matron nodded before reaching out and laying her hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"Don't worry dear; we'll see that he's up and about in no time."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Hermione murmured. The older witch blinked in surprise and frowned slightly, sharing another look with Dumbledore before leaving the room.

"And with that, my dear, I think you better tell me who you two are and how you know our names," Dumbledore suggested quietly, looking at the girl who was still staring at the boy in the bed. Hermione swallowed hard and then turned to him, expression curious.

"Sir, you don't know who I am? You gave the impression you did."

"Suspicious minds ask many questions, Miss…?"

Hermione panicked as the question trailed off. Did she tell him her real name? Granger wasn't a magical surname, so there was no chance of him connecting her to anyone, but Weasley definitely was. He could see the colour of George's hair, and if she mentioned his last name, a smart man like him would be able to connect the dots instantly. Plus, there was the fact that she'd already told Remus they were related…

"Brown," she said, speaking the first surname that popped into her head. "My name is Hermione Brown, and this is George Brown, my brother." Then, remembering the disbelief on Remus's face, added, "my adopted brother."

Dumbledore's smile didn't shift an inch, but Hermione was well versed at trying to read him and could clearly tell that he didn't believe her. His eyes still twinkled and it was strangely hard to hold his gaze. She knew that by looking directly into his eyes, she was making it easier for him to take the correct information straight from her head. But, as she'd never studied occlumency beyond what she'd read in books, there wasn't anything she could do about it, and the need to give him the impression of a calm and competent witch was stronger at the moment than attempting to keep him out of her mind.

Not that any attempt would've worked anyway. Albus Dumbledore was one of the best legilimens in the wizarding world.

"Miss Brown. Very well then. I gave Mr Lupin the impression that I knew you because I can't very well have the students find out that someone got into the castle without my knowledge, now can I? How would that look? They would lose their faith in me quite quickly, I expect."

He stroked his beard and pursed his lips. "Mind enlightening an old man on exactly _how_ you got in?"

Hermione frowned and rubbed her eyes, exhausted. "Sir, I honestly have no idea. You're not supposed to be able to apparate on the school grounds, yet my, er, brother somehow did it. One moment we we're home, the next we were here. It makes no sense."

"Well, you obviously came through time," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. Hermione's jaw dropped.

"T-time, sir? I-I have no idea what you're talking about!"

The Headmasters eyes shone with mirth as the young witch spluttered her way through the lie. He reached out and patted her hand.

"Don't worry Miss Brown; you're not in any trouble. It was obviously an accident. The reason I know it happened is because there is a way to apparate at Hogwarts. The wards stopping people from moving from one place to another are compromised when time travel is added to the mix – although it might be best if you didn't mention that to anyone. I shudder to think how some of my students would use that information if they knew."

"Yes sir," Hermione whispered, eyes wide. How could she not have known that? It wasn't in any book! She blinked and turned back to the headmaster when a thought occurred to her. "So you knew we were here? And came to meet us? How'd you know to meet us here?"

He smiled gently and held up his hand as her questions ran together. "One question at a time, my dear. Yes, I knew someone had broken through the wards, and yes, I came down to see what was going on. I came here because apparition through time travel is highly unstable, and can be quite dangerous at times. I figured that this might be the first place my sneaks would go. I'm actually surprised you aren't hurt."

"How did you know we would go here? We could have been Dark, attempting to get into the castle and hurt people – in which case, the Hospital Wing would be the last place we could go," Hermione pointed out. Dumbledore nodded.

"Excellent point. As I said, no one knows about the fault in the wards, that much I am sure of, so I trusted that it was an accident and came here first. If you had have been Dark, you wouldn't have lasted long. I would have made sure of that."

Hermione stared at him in baffled silence, and then turned back to George, who had finally fallen asleep. The aging headmaster so easily trusting her when they'd essentially broken the only unbreakable rule at Hogwarts was difficult for her to believe. Harry had always said that Dumbledore trusted too easily, even though his trust had been honoured in the end. She couldn't imagine blindly trusting someone she'd never met, though that might have a lot to do with living through a war. She was a _lot_ less trusting then the nearly twelve-year-old girl who had started Hogwarts so eagerly.

"So you came from another year – the future I'm guessing, going by your clothing," Dumbledore said, gesturing at George, who was in pyjamas. Hermione looked down and suddenly realized that she was sitting there in a nightgown, and that the headmaster was dressed very similar. The realization had her blushing furiously, and she looked at George again, inwardly berating herself for having such a reaction. She'd seen both Harry and Ron in a lot less during their year on the run and she'd been fine with that. Why was she now acting like some fumbling, innocent second-year because she'd seen her Headmaster in his night clothes?

 _Remus saw me like this as well. Great way to make a first impression…_

The thought had her snorting in derision, a sound that caused Dumbledore's brow to arch questioningly. _Stop worrying about what people think! Even if you'd been in full dress robes, you wouldn't have left a good impression! George had his wand in your favourite professor's face, for Godric's sake!_

"Yes, we came from the future," she answered, rubbing her eyes again. She really was tired.

"And you got here by…?"

The young witch grimaced. "A time-turner. George was trying to go back to stop his brother dying and sent us back too far."

Dumbledore frowned and cocked his head. "Curious."

"What is sir?" Hermione asked, her own brow imitating Dumbledore's as it rose in question.

The headmaster stroked his beard again, faded blue gaze musing.

"In this time, time-turners cannot take someone back further than a few hours. It isn't possible for someone to go back years." He dropped his hand and looked at her, eagerness shining in his eyes. "Do you have the device on you?"

"No, sir," she whispered, despair twisting her stomach into knots. They couldn't use a turner to go back? What were they going to do? "It smashed when we arrived. I can't even give you the pieces, as Remus vanished them before I could stop him. I'm sorry."

Dumbledore's face fell, but he still patted her knee in comfort. "Not to worry Miss Brown, we'll figure something out. You can stay here in the meantime. Might I ask how old you are? We could slot you and your brother into one of the years."

Hermione couldn't help the smile that spread across her face at that suggestion. Although she didn't expect to be in the past long, starting her seventh year and continuing with study towards her NEWTs would suit her quite nicely, even in another time. She could finish them when she got home, after all. "That would be brilliant, professor. I didn't attend my seventh year and George only finished half of his. There is one small problem though. You might be able to fit me in, I'm only eighteen, but George is twenty. That's a little old even for seventh year, isn't it?" she queried.

A glance over at the bed had her mouth pulling down, the idea losing its brightness. She wasn't leaving George. If he couldn't stay there, neither would she. Separation wasn't even an option.

"That's all right Miss Brown, I think we can make an exception," Dumbledore said, glancing at the bed as well. "He doesn't look much older than the other seventh year boys at the moment, so it shouldn't be a problem." He turned back to look at her curiously. "Why didn't you attend your seventh year? I take it you went here; you knew Madam Pomfrey and myself without being told whom we were. You seem like a smart girl. Why would you miss your final year?"

Hermione swallowed, her heart pounding fiercely.

"I, ah… I'd rather not talk about that, if you don't mind, professor," she said in an apologetic voice. "If I say too much, it could change the future in cataclysmic ways. It's not something I'm willing to risk."

Dumbledore studied her for a moment before nodding. "Very well. I understand you reasoning, Miss Brown. I would do the same. Well, we'll come up with a cover story for you and your brother tomorrow, and the two of you can start when he gets better. Which house were you two in?"

"Gryffindor," she answered, relieved that the headmaster wasn't pushing. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to continue standing up to him. The old wizard nodded again.

"So Gryffindor you shall be in again then. I'll organize it with Professor McGonagall." He stood up, his bones creaking in protest. "But now I think it's time we all get some sleep. I'm not as young as I once was, I'm afraid, and I need all the beauty sleep I can get. You can stay here with your brother. Madam Pomfrey won't mind if you use one of the other beds. I'll come see you in the morning."

Reaching out, he squeezed her shoulder. "Try not to worry too much, my dear. We'll get you home eventually."

 _Hopefully before we destroy the future,_ Hermione thought. She sighed and Dumbledore squeezed her shoulder again, before giving it a pat and turning towards the door.

"Goodnight Miss Brown, we'll see each other in a few hours," he said, smiling gently over his shoulder.

"Goodnight professor," the time traveller answered, her voice small. Dumbledore smiled again and headed for the entrance.

"Wait, professor!" Hermione called, getting to her feet as she suddenly remembered a very important question. Dumbledore stopped and turned back to look at her.

"Yes, my dear?"

"Er… what year is it?"

The headmaster blinked and shook his head, looking exasperated. "Forgive me, Miss Brown, I should have told you earlier. It's 1977."

Hermione swallowed heavily, her eyes widening in shock. 1977? "Um, great. Thank you. Ah, goodnight," she said, hurriedly sitting back down.

"Goodnight, Miss Brown," Dumbledore answered, amusement in his tone. She listened to him leaving, and the moment the doors closed behind him, she slumped forward until her forehead hit the bed.

1977\. Of all the years, why did it have to be 1977? The 1977/1978 school year was James Potter and Lily Evans's seventh year, and it was also supposed to be the year they'd gotten together! It was a vital year for Harry Potter's existence, and that thought was horrifically stressful. If they changed _anything_ … she raised her head, eyes focusing on the redhead sleeping peacefully in front of her, waving her wand to pull the covers up over his shoulders.

"You better get yourself better soon, George Weasley, because if I end up having to deal with this mess on my own, I'll hex you until your bollocks fall off," she murmured, determined gaze fixed on the wizard who'd gotten them into the mess in the first place.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disconnected.** **  
**  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the canonical aspects or characters in the Harry Potter franchise.

 **Warnings:** Female/male and male/male relationships (het and slash). Strong language. Sexual situations and content, both het and slash. Violence. Sexual assault.

 **A/N:** Apart from the normal vast amount of rewriting in sentence and paragraph structure (apparently, I _really_ don't like the way I originally wrote this story), nothing major has been changed in this chapter. It fought me quite a bit, so I'm glad to get it out of the way, lol. As always, enjoy, do look me up on both Twitter and tumblr (do I really need to tell me what my username is by now?) and most of all, do let me know what you think! :D Onwards!

 _"You better get yourself better soon, George Weasley, because if I end up having to deal with this mess on my own, I'll hex you until your bollocks fall off," she murmured, determined gaze fixed on the wizard who'd gotten them into the mess in the first place._

* * *

 **Chapter Four.**

* * *

"Miss Brown? Miss Brown! Miss Brown, I believe it's time to _wake up_!"

The hand on her shoulder and the startling voice in her ear abruptly broke through her heavy slumber, making Hermione wake with a shocked snort. Instincts long engrained kicked in, and she shot to her feet at the unexpected voice, her movement pushing the chair half of her body had been sleeping in backwards, which utterly threw her balance off. Her foot ended up tangled in the retreating chair leg, and she would've ended up on her arse on the floor if Dumbledore hadn't seen fit to gently wrap his arm around her waist. Hermione looked up into his amused eyes sheepishly as she regained her balance.

"I apologize, Miss Brown, I shouldn't have shouted. But you were rather deeply asleep," the headmaster said, letting her go once he was sure she was steady on her feet again. The young witch smiled at him and rubbed her eyes, blowing out a breath as she pulled the chair back to the bedside and sat back down. "Why were you sleeping in a chair when there are plenty on delightfully comfortable beds around?"

Hermione grimaced slightly and shrugged. "I don't think I got the chance to move to a bed, professor. I must have fallen asleep here."

"Then I insist that you get some proper rest today, because one has to be awfully exhausted to fall asleep in these chairs," Dumbledore said with a chuckle. Hermione nodded, arching her back to relieve the aching. Those chairs _were_ hard.

"What time is it?" she asked, pushing her hair back with a yawn. It was as unruly and wild as ever, falling in her eyes and clinging to her cheeks and mouth. Running her fingers through it brought forth a wince or two, knots catching and coming apart painfully. It needed a decent brush and then to be braided back out of the way.

"Just after ten in the morning. I came late because I thought you might enjoy a lie in. Had I known you'd spent the night in a chair, I would have come earlier to try and spare you some pain," the professor answered. Hermione shook her head and let her hair drop back over her shoulders, annoyed with it. She yawned again and absently turned to check on George.

"No, that's okay, it wouldn't have helped…"

Trailing off, Hermione eyes widened. Her fellow time traveller was clearly awake, as his eyes were open, and hope had Hermione's heart pounding for a brief moment. But that moment soon ended as she noted the way his eyes were fixed on the ceiling above him, as blank as they had been the night before. She couldn't tell how long he'd been awake for, or even if he knew she was there. He certainly wasn't acknowledging her bending over him now.

"George? It's Hermione. Can you hear me?" she asked softly, studying his face. The hope dwindled further when he didn't answer, just continued to stare silently up at the roof. Hermione sighed

"George? Come on Georgie, please answer me," she whispered desperately, hoping that the familiar nickname his mother always used would liven him up. Unfortunately, it didn't do a damn thing. Her spirits plummeted when George didn't so much as twitch at the name, and Hermione swallowed hard and sunk back down into the chair, unable to help the dismay and the hint of panic she was feeling at how unresponsive he was.

Dear Merlin, what was she going to do? She needed George, not only with helping her find a way home, but also as someone to talk to! She couldn't handle this situation on her own! She didn't _want_ to handle this situation on her own! Her hands trembled a little as she wrung them in front of her, her eyes beginning to prickle, an unwanted obstruction growing in her throat.

A jolt ran through her when a hand touched her shoulder and squeezed in comfort, reminding Hermione that she wasn't as alone as she thought she was. The thought calmed her somewhat, and with a deep breath, she looked over to meet the kind eyes of Albus Dumbledore.

"Don't worry so, Miss Brown. It has only been a day. He may need longer than that to pull himself together, but I'm sure he'll come back to you eventually."

Hermione pressed her lips together and nodded. "I hope so," she whispered, looking back at George and rubbing the heel of her hand over the twisting in her chest. It was disturbing to see someone so full of life so empty.

Dumbledore absently patted her shoulder and then stepped back to let a hovering Madam Pomfrey in, who, after a thorough check-up, said the same thing as the headmaster. The high point of the exam came when she didn't have to force-feed her patient. Once she'd gotten him sitting up, the mediwitch placed the potions in George's hands and he automatically brought them to his lips and drank them.

"This is a good thing, Miss Brown. It means despite what it looks like, he is still with us. It's very encouraging, so we'll give him a couple of days to come back to himself properly before we go any further. If he hasn't after that, then we'll try magical intervention," the matron explained, smiling at the worried young witch.

"And if that doesn't work?" Hermione questioned quietly, her eyes never leaving George.

"Let's not worry about that yet dear," Madam Pomfrey answered gently. "He's still interacting and the potions are working. One step at a time, hmm?"

Hermione nodded and drew in a long, steadying breath. Yes, one step at a time. The potions _were_ working, even she could see the weight he'd regained overnight, though he still had a long way to go. Her jaw firmed and the lingering anxiety in her stomach smoothed out, her hand that had fisted on the bedcovers opening and reaching out to brush George's too-long hair behind his single ear.

He would get better. He didn't really have a choice in the matter anyway, because she'd already decided that she was going to make sure of it.

~0~

"Now, I thought you might want something else to wear besides your nightgown," Dumbledore said cheerfully after Madam Pomfrey had left to attend other patients. A twitch of his hand had him suddenly holding out a red, starch-collared shirt, a pair of brown, bellbottom corduroy pants, and a very familiar looking set of robes. "We can't have you wandering the halls in your sleepwear now, can we? Although I'm sure the school's male population wouldn't mind, you might get a few looks from the other half."

"I'm used to looks," Hermione replied absently, lips pulling up in amusement as she took the flared pants and held them up to herself. Christ, she was going to look like her mother! "But thank you anyway. It'll be nice not to be stuck in a nightgown. I'll just change behind here?"

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore nodded, smiling as Hermione pulled the curtains around the next bed, "I'm sorry I couldn't do anything about more personal articles of clothing. I'm afraid that I just don't have any women's undergarments at my disposal at this time."

"No, ah, that's all right, professor, I've got that covered," Hermione answered hurriedly, flushing at the thought of wearing knickers that the headmaster had produced from Merlin knew where. It wasn't something she really wanted to think about. Besides, she could just conjure or transfigure what she needed herself, and then there was the cleansing charm. She'd used that an awful lot while on the run.

"Ah, good. I figured you would," Dumbledore chuckled, and Hermione rolled her eyes at his jovial tone. She quickly finished getting dressed and pulled back the curtain, and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he held out his arm to her.

"I don't know about you, but I myself am feeling a bit peckish-"

The door to the wing swung open with an almighty bang, drawing both the headmaster's and Hermione's attention. Four boys had tumbled through the entrance, Madam Pomfrey following right behind then, scolding loudly.

"There are _sick_ people here boys, they don't need you four making them feel worse!" the mediwitch hissed. One of the boys untangled himself from the others, a cocky grin in his face, his long raven hair falling in his storm-grey eyes.

"Aww, come on now Poppy, you know we make everyone feel better just by walking into the room," he cooed. The boy beside him snorted, brushing his hand down his front to straighten his wrinkled robes.

"Yeah, they feel better by leaving the room as quickly as possible," he muttered, earning a glare from his companion. The other two laughed at his comment.

"Nice one, Moony," one of them said, hazel eyes dancing with amusement.

"Hilarious!" the fourth agreed, his watery jittery with excitement as they eagerly swung between his friends, as if searching for approval. Catching the look, the first boy smirked scornfully.

"Tone it down, Wormy, you're really not his type," he drawled, making the hazel-eyed boy snicker. The plump, runty boy frowned and opened his mouth to answer, but Dumbledore interrupted before he could say anything.

"I see lessons aren't a priority today," he said, laughter in the brow he raised at them.

"When are they ever," the matron muttered, and all four boys grinned at her before turning back to their headmaster. Hermione gaped at the foursome, rooted to the spot.

James Potter's resemblance to his son was shocking. Sure, there were clear differences, his darker eyes the most obvious, but if you had stood father and son side by side at the same age, Hermione would've sworn they were brothers; maybe even twins. She swallowed hard as her eyes lingered on him, loneliness swamping her suddenly. Merlin, it had only been a day, and she already missed him.

Unable to look at the Harry look-alike any longer, her gaze flicked to Remus, and she was struck once again by how young he was. Although the effects of his affliction were easy to see when you knew what to look for, there was no grey in hair as yet, no deep-set lines in his face, and not nearly as much exhaustion in his eyes. Compared to the way his older self had looked, this Remus looked carefree.

Hermione wasn't sure whether seeing him as he was now made her feel better or worse. Nibbling on her bottom lip, her eyes moved, landed, and then narrowed the smallest boy in the group.

Peter Pettigrew. It had to be. Horrible, vile little creature. It took everything she had not to draw her wand and curse him where he stood as anger spewed hot and volatile through her mind. To betray your best friends was unthinkable, but to know that that betrayal would lead to death and to still do it…

He wasn't worth the air he breathed.

The disgust she felt was so thick, she could taste in on her tongue. Hermione dragged her eyes away, teeth and hands clenched, and her breath stuttered in her chest as her seething gaze abruptly clashed with a pair of eyes that were staring right back at her. Sharp grey locked with brown, and black eyebrows winged in intrigue when they met the anger in her eyes. A leisurely smirk formed, and Hermione's lips parted, the fury fading as that gaze proceeded to slide slowly over her in what was likely a habitual gesture that felt no less like physical touch, grey eyes dancing when they looked back into her face. This time only a single brow cocked, and with flushed cheeks the witch quickly looked away, her heart now throbbing hard and fast for an entirely different reason.

Sirius Black. Harry's godfather. A man she'd spent a summer living in the same house with, just as she'd spent that same summer telling herself to get over the stupid, annoying little crush she'd had on him. He'd been in his late thirties, and she'd been a girl of fifteen. No matter how many times she'd told herself that nothing could ever come of it, that he very clearly didn't see her as anything but his godson's best friend, it certainly hadn't stop her heart from racing whenever he walked into the room – much like it was doing now.

Thankfully, with Ron's unknowing help, she'd eventually gotten over it. But it had meant that Sirius's death had hit her harder than it should've, though no one but Ginny had noticed. She shuddered to think what Harry would've thought if he'd known the real reason behind her crying jags while she'd recovered in the hospital wing after the battle in the Department of Mysteries.

That had been three years ago in her time. He'd been handsome enough then, though his time in Azkaban had stripped some of his looks. He was even better looking now, and when you added in how disconcerting it was to see him young, healthy and _alive_ … she swallowed hard, looking back at James a little desperately. She'd never had any romantic feelings for Harry, so his teenage father was safe to look at. She could never imagine thinking of Harry as fit, or gorgeous, or sexy, or-

She was startled out of her embarrassing and confusing thoughts by the boy she was looking at.

"You're wrong sir, of course lessons are a priority," James said with his trademark lopsided smile. "But Remus said that we may have some new students, and we wanted to come welcome them."

 _More like stick your nose where it doesn't belong,_ Hermione thought with a silent snort. _Are all teenage boys such nosy buggers?_

"Right you are Mr Potter, we do have a couple of new students. Maybe if I introduce you, you might go out and learn something, as is the purpose of this school," Dumbledore commented dryly, tugging a very reluctant Hermione forward. Considering the year she was in, she'd known she'd have to meet them eventually, but she would have liked to be a little more prepared first.

"Boys, may I introduce Miss Hermione Brown. Hermione, this is Messrs James Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew and, of course, Remus Lupin, whom you met last night," the headmaster said, indicating each boy in turn. "Miss Brown will be taking up residence in your house tomorrow, while her brother will be joining her once he has recovered."

Hermione looked up at the wizard beside her in surprise. "Sir, I won't be waiting for George to get better?"

"No, my dear, I think it would be best if you met everyone and started your lessons as soon as possible," Dumbledore answered. "You are of course, always welcome to come see him before and after class."

Pursing her lips, Hermione sighed and nodded. There were clearly already rumours spreading, and they'd only get worse until at least one of them showed their faces.

"How is your brother?" Remus asked gently, his eyes flitting over her shoulder. Hermione attempted to smile, though she was afraid it probably came off as more of a grimace.

"He's… not too good at the moment, but Madam Pomfrey said he's showing signs of improvement," she said, worry rife in her voice.

"What's wrong with him?" Peter blurted, and then yelped and whined when James punched him in the shoulder. Hermione threw him a venomous glare.

"He's sick," she said in a voice that was curt enough to cause all four boys to glance at each other. Cursing herself for the overreaction, she closed her eyes and sighed, rubbing her temple. "It's not really anyone's business but George's what's wrong with him, and I'd thank you to respect his privacy. Who and what he tells when he gets better is up to him," she continued stiffly, staring at the door above Peter's head.

"Right, we understand," came Remus's hurried reply. He threw a glare at Peter as well, who was still grumbling and rubbing his shoulder.

"Well, if that's all boys, I was about to escort Miss Brown out for a bite to eat," Dumbledore said.

"We'll take her, professor," Sirius suggested with an inviting grin, his eyes still fixed firmly on the intriguing new girl. Hermione did her best to ignore him. "I'm sure she'll find it a much more _enjoyable_ experience with people her own age."

Dumbledore paused and looked thoughtful.

"I'm quite positive that wasn't supposed to be an insult, Mr Black, so I won't take it as one," he said, and Sirius's head snapped around to look at him, his eyes popping as he realized what he'd said to his headmaster. Hermione hid a chuckle. "But I do think that I should be the one to escort Miss Brown. You four have classes, and I don't want Professor McGonagall to come down on me again. It was rather terrifying last time."

"We can't accompany you, professor?" Sirius asked, rather cheekily in Hermione's opinion. "You can escort us to our classroom as well."

Alarm had her eyes going wide, and Hermione spoke before Dumbledore got the chance reply. Knowing him, he was probably going to say yes, and the last thing she wanted was to go anywhere with Sirius Black. She needed to get her head sorted out first, strengthen her defences if you will. In the past (or the future, depending on which way you looked at it), Sirius had been able to turn her to mush with even a hint of a flirty look in his eye. She needed to prepare herself for that power being ten times stronger in this younger version.

"Oh, don't worry about me, professor, I'd rather stay here with George if you don't mind," she said, deliberately not looking at the boys.

"You're not hungry Miss Brown?" the headmaster questioned. Hermione shrugged.

"Not particularly. If I do get hungry, I can just call a house-elf – that's if the castle has them," she tacked on hastily. She really needed to get the hang of not knowing everything.

Dumbledore smiled. "Of course, my dear. You can stay as long as you like. We can talk later, and yes, we do house house-elves. Call for Nifty if your appetite gets the better of you. I find she's quite good at satisfying cravings and finding the unusual."

"Thank you, professor, I will," Hermione answered, smiling at him tiredly. It was nice to talk to Dumbledore when he didn't have an agenda in the back of his mind. _And that's the way it's going to stay,_ she thought as she turned back towards George's bed. It was still a couple of years before Dumbledore found out about the prophesy and Harry, and Hermione certainly wasn't going to do _anything_ to help that discovery along.

 _We'll stay here until Dumbledore finds us a way home. That's it. Nothing more. We won't make waves. We won't._

"If you're staying dear, I'll write down the order in which your brother has to take his potions," Madam Pomfrey said, stepping out from behind the boys and drawing Hermione from her preoccupied thoughts. "That way I won't disturb him too much." She turned to the Marauders when the other witch nodded silently, her bottom lip back between her teeth. "I trust one of you hooligans has a spare bit of parchment I can use?"

"Hooligans? Oh, you really must stop giving us compliments, Poppy!" Sirius cried dramatically, winking at the mediwitch. Madam Pomfrey huffed at the use of her given name, but wisely didn't bother to correct the boy. Instead, she reached for the parchment James handed her.

"You don't have some of your own, madam?" Dumbledore queried and the matron flushed.

"I ran out and haven't had a chance to get any more," she muttered. The headmaster chuckled.

"That's quite all right. Now come boys, let us get you back to filling your heads with nonsense- I mean information," he said. The four boys grinned and turned to the door. "We'll talk later, Miss Brown?"

"What? Oh, yes," Hermione answered vaguely. Panic was racing through her, pinning her to the spot halfway between the door and George's bed.

A spare bit of parchment. _A spare bit of parchment!_ How could she have been so stupid? How could she have possibly forgotten about it? It was what had allowed her and her two friends to sneak around the castle for so many years, without getting caught! And the original creators were standing right in front of her!

If anyone of those boys decided to use their brains and check the Map – if they hadn't already – the jig was definitely up. And there was nothing she could do about it. She was a goner.

 _Yes there is. Nick it._

The wing became quiet again as the headmaster and his students left, and Hermione frowned at the wayward and out-of-the-blue thought. Nick it? Impossible. She couldn't steal the Map.

 _Of course you can! You stole from Gringotts, didn't you? The Map should be cake compared to that! Nick it! Steal it and you won't have to worry about a thing!_

Her eyes narrowed in speculation as the thought sunk in. Stealing the Map wouldn't solve _all_ of her problems, but it would certainly take care of the current one. No one would ever have to know that she'd lied about who she and George were, because they'd never see the proof. It was a risky idea, if she was caught she'd be in loads of trouble, but she didn't see any other way.

She stomach twisted as the decision solidified. She, Hermione Granger, was going to steal the Marauders Map, right out from under the noses of the Marauders themselves.

As Ron would say…

Bloody hell.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disconnected.** **  
**  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the canonical aspects or characters in the Harry Potter franchise. Nor do I own The Pirates of Penzance.

 **Warnings:** Female/male and male/male relationships (het and slash). Strong language. Sexual situations and content, both het and slash. Violence. Sexual assault.

 **A/N:** Apologies for the break in what was starting to turn into a steady posting schedule. Whereas the previous chapter only fought me, this chapter got stuck. Or maybe my brain did. Either way, it wouldn't move at all, so I took some time away and concentrated on other things, and now here we are, thank goodness. No major changes, which is why the stuck-ness frustrated me so, lol. Anyway, read, enjoy, ask me questions on tumblr if you have any, as I'm much more reliable at answering them there, and do let me know what you think! :)

 _She stomach twisted as the decision solidified. She, Hermione Granger, was going to steal the Marauders Map, right out from under the noses of the Marauders themselves. As Ron would say… Bloody hell._

* * *

 **Chapter Five.**

* * *

Hermione silently accepted the list Madam Pomfrey handed her, the matron then turning and heading towards her office while Dumbledore herded the four seventh-year boys out the door. She watched the four leave anxiously, wishing they would hurry up. She really wanted to get this foolhardy plan over and done with, and she wanted those boys as far away as possible when she did. Her bottom lip slowly made its way between her teeth as she watched the door close. She couldn't believe she was going to do this.

Steal from the Marauders? Brilliant idea, that. Great way to seem friendly, wasn't it?

 _Oh, quit your whining and just go do it already! You aren't planning on being here long enough to form life-long friendships, are you?_

Hermione frowned and shook her as the room finally settled into silence, the racket the four boys had been making fading off into the depths of the school. Her conscience was right. She _didn't_ intend to be there long, and the only life-long friendship she should be worrying about were the ones with Harry and Ron. They were who she was going back to.

 _Yes, and you can go back to them that much sooner if you stop lollygagging and make tracks towards the common room! Come on, chop, chop! It'll be fun!_

The young witch snorted under her breath. Fun? She doubted it. Stressful and harrowing, more like. But deciding her inner voice was right, she really did need to move her backside and go do a little looting before she and George were found out, she headed towards her 'brother's' beside.

George was right where she'd left him, no change notable at all. She sighed and looked down at the hand-written list, brightening a little when she saw that his first potion wasn't due for another hour. She should be back by then. Something would've had to have gone seriously wrong for her not to be. With a nod, she looked back at the blank-faced Weasley.

"Well, wish me luck, George. I'm about to go steal the Map from its creators, hopefully saving our collective arses in the process."

She watched him for any sign of response, her shoulders falling when all he did was stare. And even though knew she really shouldn't get annoyed with him, irritation began to bubble inside her at the way he'd just retreated, left her to it, left her to deal with the mess _he'd_ created. It was his fault she had to go rummaging through teenage boy things, the least he could do was function and help her out with it!

 _Leave him be. He'll come back. You'll see._

Pulling a face at her thoughts, she hitched up her robes, which were a little too big for her, conjured shoes and silently left his side. A little ditty began to run through her mind as she headed for the door, earning a chuckle and cheering her up slightly. Talk about suiting the situation!

 _With cat-like tread,  
Upon our prey we steal,  
In silence dread,  
Our cautious way we feel,  
No sound at all,  
We never speak a word,  
A fly's foot-fall,  
Would be distinctly heard…_

~0~

Hermione's heart was pounding by the time she got to the portrait hole, all musical numbers banished far from her mind. She'd thought the easy part would be getting to the common room. How wrong she was. She eventually had to cast an Invisibility spell – a useful little charm she'd learnt from Fred and George – to stop students staring at her suspiciously.

She shook her head in disbelief as she stopped in front of the Fat Lady. Who knew they'd be so many students not in class? She was appalled at how many young witches and wizards played hooky. Sure, she'd done her fair share of skipping class in her time, but she'd always had good reason! To decide to just not attend class willy-nilly, without any regard for your education, offended her inner goody-two-shoes something rotten.

Grumbling to herself about non-forward thinking teenagers, she was distracted from her thoughts when the opportunity she'd been waiting for presented itself. A young boy, a second or third-year by the looks of him, approached the portrait hole. Hermione pushed away from the wall she'd been leaning against and drifted in as close to him as she dared. The boy looked up at the Fat Lady, who looked back down at him importantly, and said "fiddlesticks."

"Righto then, dear," the Fat Lady answered before swinging forward. Hermione followed the boy as he scrambled in, half expecting the guardian of Gryffindor Tower to stop her. She was fairly positive that the Fat Lady would be able to see through a Disillusionment, but she hadn't been sure about Invisibility. But the portrait didn't say a word, so obviously the spell worked on her as well. Hermione entered the common room without anyone the wiser.

 _That's not a good thing, really,_ she though as she took a quick look around the all but deserted room. _Maybe I should suggest tightening security to Dumbledore…_

Hermione quickly shut down her thoughts before the tantalising idea of changing even something tiny took a firmer hold. They would _not_ be changing anything! They would get through whatever length of time they spend here, unknown and unobserved, before they headed back to their own time. Back to a time that was exactly the same as it had been when they'd left.

 _Better hop to it then!_

The invisible witch silently thanked whatever rule allowed girls to enter the boys' dormitories as she headed up the stairs, cringing back against the wall to avoid a stampeding teenager who was hurriedly shrugging on his robes. She'd have no clue what to do if the stairs turned into a slide, like they did whenever a boy tried to enter a girls' dormitory. The only way to get in then would probably be to fly, and Hermione Granger (Brown, she had to start thinking of herself as Brown!) and brooms just didn't mix.

Reaching the top, a scowl of confusion and frustration pulled at her brow. She'd always known where to go when she'd gone visiting Harry and Ron. Now though, she hadn't the foggiest, because it seemed that the seventh year in 1977 was bigger than Hermione's year had been. There were not one, but three doors marked 'Seventh Year', all shut tightly. She bit her lip as her gaze switched between the three. If she chose the wrong one and there was still someone in the room…

 _Stop hesitating and just pick one! You're invisible! If there's someone in there, it won't be a big deal! This is Hogwarts, you silly bint!_

The relief had her grinning. That's right, this _was_ Hogwarts! Feeling much more confident, she strode over to the first door and tentatively grasped the handle, slowly pushing it open.

The room was empty. Four messy, four-poster beds lined the walls, and Hermione walked over to the closest to the door, hoping that she'd be able to tell right away who lived in the room. She knew the Marauders dormed together, Sirius had mentioned it a time or two in the future, so she was praying that him or James or Remus had left a book out or something. Merlin, she'd even take something Peter had left lying around.

She found what she was looking for beside the third bed. A Transfiguration book was lying on the bedside table, the inner cover showing a name that sounded slightly familiar to her - 'Benjy Fenwick.' Taking this as confirmation that she was in the wrong room, she left quickly and headed for the next room, where she struck the jackpot.

The room was a mess, though this wasn't surprising considering Sirius Black may live there. If Molly Weasley hadn't cleaned up after him at Grimmauld Place, they would all have been living in more squalor than usual. Three of the beds weren't made, covers tossed back and pillows chucked everywhere, while the fourth was neatly pulled up and wrinkle free. This was Hermione's first clue, as Remus was basically the opposite of Sirius. You couldn't find a more tidy wizard, which Hermione had always thought might have something to do with him taking control of whatever he could. But it was the trunk beside the first bed that confirmed her suspicions.

In her experience, you didn't place such strong wards over an object unless you had something to protect or hide. She headed over to the trunk and examined it thoroughly, smiling when she saw the name 'Sirius Black' engraved on top of it. Most definitely the right room, then.

Hermione cautiously reached out to touch the trunk, not at all surprised when a barrier of some sort prevented her from getting too close. It even gave her a tiny shock, making her grin in elation. She knew this ward. She knew it like the back of her hand. She'd become well acquainted with it while on the Horcrux Hunt. It had been among the many spells she'd cast to hide their camp site, so she was quite practiced at breaking it down. Drawing her wand from her sleeve, she took a deep breath and started.

Ten minutes later saw her panting, sweat running down her forehead, with a finally un-warded trunk sitting in front of her. Hermione quite honestly hadn't expected it to be so hard to break. Whoever had cast it – Sirius probably, it was his trunk – had added little changes that had thrown her off for a moment or two. But broken it she had, and she opened the trunk eagerly.

Her jaw dropped when she saw the contents. The trunk seemed to hold the entire contents of the Room of Hidden Things. It was a jumbled mess, and Hermione pursed her lips in annoyance and raised her wand.

" _Accio_ Marauder's Map!" she whispered, pointing her wand at the clutter. The heavily packed-in items rumbled dangerously before they erupted, spewing everywhere, making Hermione fall back in shock. She let out a rather surprised sound that sounded a lot like 'gak!' when a sharp-edged piece of parchment hit her in the mouth and fell into her lap. The time traveller rubbed a hand over her smarting lips, grimacing in annoyance for not having expected that, and picked up the parchment, a grin growing at its familiarity. She rescued her wand from under the bed, where it had rolled when she'd toppled back in fright – _never let go of your wand, Hermione!_ she scolded herself – and tapped the front.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," she murmured, and her grin widened when the Map exploded into life. It brought back memories, this piece of parchment. The elation faded when she remembered that not all of them were good.

Sighing, she tapped the Map once more.

"Mischief managed," she whispered, and was once again holding a spare bit of parchment. She quickly folded it up and stuck it in the pocket of her robes, before scooting around and shoving the bits and pieces back in the trunk. She closed it and painstakingly rebuilt the ward, knowing as she did so that it wouldn't prevent the Marauders from finding out that they'd been robbed for long.

Hermione sighed in resignation as she stood up and made her way out of the room. There wasn't anything she could do about that. As long as they didn't find out that _she_ was the robber, everything should be fine.

~0~

Getting back to the Hospital Wing was even harder than getting to the common room had been. Mainly because it was now lunchtime and the halls were a lot more crowded than they had been when Hermione had begun her adventure.

 _Why aren't they in the Great Hall? That's where you have lunch after all,_ she grumbled to herself as she once again ducked and dodged to avoid letting the whole school know she was there. She scooted along walls and slid down banisters, sneaking past what seemed to be the whole student body, finally breathing a sigh of relief when she turned into the corridor leading to the Hospital Wing. Feeling safe, she removed the Invisibility spell and jogged towards the doors.

Only to collide with someone doing the same thing from another direction.

Hermione 'oomphed' as the force of the collision knocked her over, her robes flying up and around her as she hit the ground. Only prior experience prevented her head from smacking into the ground. Her body still landed heavily though, and she groaned as she lay on the floor.

"Well, hello, Miss Brown. What are you doing down there?"

The witch cracked open her eyes and glared up at the face hovering over her. Said eyes widened and she quickly closed them again when she saw a swing of long black hair and a sultry grey gaze.

"Sirius," she muttered, her nose crinkling in annoyance.

"You rang?" came the reply and Hermione gasped as her body was suddenly jerked and lifted, until the soles of her feet were more again touching the floor. Sirius smiled at her when she was upright again. He cocked his head, his gaze locking on hers, and Hermione suppressed a shiver at the unexpected intensity in the look.

"Fancy seeing you again," he murmured before grinning. "Quite a coincidence, don't you think?"

"Not particularly," Hermione answered, the heat of his hands seeping into her shoulders. Why hadn't he let her go? "You know I'm staying here at the moment."

Sirius's grin widened. "I knew there was a reason to visit Poppy more often," he said, eyes running over her face. Hermione frowned at him as she tried to ignore his flirtatious expression.

"Shouldn't you be in class?" she asked.

"It's lunchtime, love," Sirius answered with a laugh in his voice and Hermione flushed. She shrugged her shoulders to try to dislodge his hands.

It didn't work.

"So, what? You decided to go for a stroll to the Hospital Wing?" she continued awkwardly, the Map seemingly burning a hole in her pocket. She silently thanked Circe that it hadn't fallen out when she hit the ground.

"Something like that," Sirius grinned, drawing her closer. Hermione's eyes widened. "So you'll be needing a guide to the school then, right? I'm more than available."

"More than available? How can you possibly be more than available? You're either available or you're not," she rambled as nervousness made words trip over themselves in an effort to escape. Her heart pounded like a drum in her ears. Sirius was still drawing her closer.

"I can be whatever you want me to be, love," Sirius murmured, his eyes falling to her mouth.

Hermione stared at him before suddenly snorting loudly. She couldn't help it. The cheesiness of that line was just too much, and it cleared the cloud of edginess and unwanted lust pumping through her system.

"Does that line actually work on anyone?"

Sirius blinked and looked up to meet her amused gaze, surprise lighting his own eyes. He grinned at her and shrugged.

"You'd be surprised," he answered dryly. Hermione snorted again and shook her head.

"Well it's not going to work on me."

"It's not?" Sirius questioned with a smirk.

"No. I know your type, Sirius. You're all flirt, no substance. That type of man doesn't do anything for me, so you may as well quit before even leaving the starting block."

With a hard jerk, she pulled back out of his arms, hoping he wouldn't realize that she was lying through her teeth. For one thing, she knew there was more to Sirius than that. They'd had a few conversations during the summer before fifth year, and she'd enjoyed them immensely, finding him intelligent, witty and very well spoken. It hadn't done much to get rid of her crush, but at the time she'd been laughing too much to care.

The second thing? Hermione had found she was a sucker for a flirt. Victor had proved that. The fact that someone took the time to flirt with her… it secretly thrilled her. She usually wasn't the type of girl a bloke flirted with. Too much brain, not enough boob.

"Now, if you'd excuse me, I have to get back to my brother," she said as she stepped to the side and walked past him, towards the doors. Sirius silently watched her go, his expression thoughtful. She'd just pushed one of the doors open when his voice stopped her.

"Oh, Miss Brown?"

"What, Sirius?" Hermione said as she looked back over her shoulder in exasperation. "And my name is Hermione."

"I know," Sirius said, his abruptly wide and cheeky grin transforming his face in a way that had butterflies swarming Hermione's stomach. "And just so _you_ know, challenge accepted."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disconnected.** **  
**  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the canonical aspects or characters in the Harry Potter franchise.

 **Warnings:** Female/male and male/male relationships (het and slash). Strong language. Sexual situations and content, both het and slash. Violence. Sexual assault.

 **A/N:** I love this chapter. Even in the original I loved this chapter, so there's only a tiny bit of sentence changing and content added in. I hope you love it as much as I do! Enjoy! :D

 _"I know," Sirius said, his abruptly wide and cheeky grin transforming his face in a way that had butterflies swarming Hermione's stomach. "And just so_ _you_ _know, challenge accepted."_

* * *

 **Chapter Six.**

* * *

 _George was floating. He didn't know where he was, or how long he'd been there. He didn't much care either. All he knew was that it was dark, quiet and very peaceful, a haven of sorts. He lay back and let himself float, content to be tucked away from the outside world._

 _Tucked away from the pain._

 _He didn't think he was physically hurt in any way. There weren't any wounds on his body – or at least he didn't think there would've been if he_ had _a body. He couldn't actually feel anything resembling a human body, nor did he think he had eyes to look down and see one, and he knew he probably should be concerned about that fact. But whenever he thought about the life beyond this haven, this absence of feeling and person, a sharp, jagged-edged hole pulsed in his chest, driving relentless agony through his non-existent system._

 _So he didn't think about it. He didn't think about anything beyond the escape the peaceful darkness brought. He embraced it and sunk._

 _"Well, this isn't what I expected of you, mate."_

 _George frowned. There was an intrusion on his solitude. Something was tugging at him, pulling at that hole. He shoved the tug away and closed what should be his eyes._

 _"George. Don't be a chicken. You're needed out here."_

 _The tugging grew worse and George found himself rising through the dark. He panicked, trying to shut himself away again._

 _"You're missing out on all the fun, Georgie."_

 _"Don't care," he thought back at the something frantically, pulling away from whatever it was as hard as he could. "Don't wanna face that. Just wanna stay here."_

 _"Bloody hell, Gred, you're being a right baby!"_

 _With that exasperated statement, the something wrapped its metaphoric hands around George's symbolic pyjama top and_ yanked. _George flew up through the darkness like he was attached to a rubber-band, fear making him fight the entire way. No! He wanted to stay! He had to! He_ needed _to-_

George blinked slowly as what looked like a hospital room blurred into view. Water filled his stinging eyes, light piercing them, as if he hadn't seen it or anything in a long time. He blinked again, his mind sluggishly trying to piece together what was going on.

Looking around, it slowly came to him that he _was_ in a hospital room. A familiar hospital room. Huh? What was-

He gasped and his hand shot to his chest as the memory of the past month slammed into his brain like a freight train.

Fred. His twin.

His twin was dead.

The pain jack-knifed through his, shortening his breath and making him shake. Not only was Fred dead, his attempt at rectifying the situation had gone down the dirty bog. He hadn't saved him.

A keening, high-pitched whimper hissing from between his teeth, George drew his knees up and clutched at his head with his hands. As he began to rock, his eyes slowly emptied again.

"Georgie, Georgie, Georgie. What am I going to do with you?"

George froze, self surging back as his whole body went completely and utterly still. He knew that voice. Knew it like he knew his own name. He lowered his hands and very carefully turned his head, as if it was going to fall off, towards the speaker.

There was a man standing beside his bed. The man's bright blue eyes sparkled with life, giving the impression he was continually holding back laughter. His hair was on the longish side and was an orangey red in colour, like the edge of fire. He was wearing a set of magenta robes that clashed violently with his hair, and a very wide grin.

He was identical to George in every way – or he would have been if George had been carrying more weight.

"Well? Aren't you going to say something? It's not every day your brother comes back from the dead!"

George swallowed hard, finding it difficult to make any sound at all. "F-Fred?"

"'Course it's me, you prat. Don't have another dead brother, do you?"

"No," George croaked, staring at the apparition. He felt calm. A little too calm. Was he numb? "Ah… how are you here? Like you said, you're dead." A thought occurred to him and his eyes widened. "You're not a ghost, are you?"

Fred shook his head, a half-smile twisting his mouth. "No, mate, I'm not. Didn't have a reason to hang around, see. I'm not a ghost; I'm not even here, really."

"That doesn't make sense," George pointed out with a frown. He was still too calm. "How can you be here, but not be here?"

Fred shrugged and folded his arms behind his back, that half-smile spreading. "Better ask yourself that. It's your head after all." He rolled his eyes when his twin just looked more confused. "I'm in your head, mate."

"Oh," George said, not entirely surprised by this. He sat back in the bed and rubbed his hand over his face, blinking at his brother. "So am I mental then?"

"Probably," Fred answered cheerfully. "All I know is that you needed me, so here I am."

George nodded thoughtfully and there was silence for a bit. Fred seemed to know he needed time, so set about inspecting the room, whistling tunelessly under his breath. He turned back when George cleared his throat, eyebrow raised.

"So… can I touch you?"

"Hell if I know," Fred answered with another shrug. "As I said, brother, it's your head."

George nodded for the second time, lips pursed. Then without warning, he shot from the bed and hurled himself at his probably imaginary brother, ploughing right into him and knocking him over. Fred laughed loudly as they hit the floor.

"Hey look, you can touch me. Although that landing would have been interesting if you couldn't," he chuckled. His laughter quickly died as George clutched at him for dear life, his body shaking again.

He wasn't numb anymore.

"Hey. Hey, it's all right. You're fine. I'm not going anywhere, George; I'm here as long as you need me. Steady on now."

George ignored him and buried his face into his twin's neck. His lungs felt small and stone like, pushing at the tears clogging his throat and making them spill down his cheeks in an endless stream. Fred may've only been a figment of his imagination, but the weight of his body felt real enough. He sniffed and hiccupped and cried, and tried to pull him closer, joy lighting his blood.

"Come on, George, enough of the blubbering already. You're getting my robes all wet."

A slightly shocked laugh bubbled up inside George and escaped through his lips, the sound foreign enough to make him pull back. He smiled at his twin through water-soaked eyes.

"There we go. There's the Gred I know and love to annoy."

George laughed again and wiped his nose with the back of his hand, sitting back and crossing his legs. He stared at his twin, not able to take his eyes off him.

"Sorry. It's just… hard. Really hard. I thought I had a way to bring you back, but then that when kaput."

Fred cocked his head and ran his eyes over him. "I know it's hard, I can tell that just by looking at you. Are you trying to be the world skinniest wizard or what?"

George grimaced. "Food hasn't really held all that much interest for me lately," he said quietly.

"Well, that's bound to change now that 'Mione's in the picture," Fred said with a wink. "That bloody bird won't let you get away with not eating."

He suddenly craned his neck around the bed and grinned. "Speaking of annoyingly prim and proper witches…"

George frowned and, in a habit that had developed at birth and neither had ever tried to break, copied his twin and turned head towards the doors as well. They creaked as they opened, and he blinked as he heard Hermione's exasperated voice.

"What, Sirius? And my name is Hermione."

George stuck his head under the bed, straining to hear the answer. Sirius? Did she mean Sirius Black?

"He's dead, though, isn't he? Then again, I'm here, so anything's possible I suppose."

George pulled back and looked at his brother in surprise. He hadn't said anything out loud, had he?

Fred grinned and tapped his temple. "In your head, Georgie."

"You must be. The real Fred would never have used that bloody annoying nickname," George grumbled.

"'Course he would've," Fred corrected. "Not shut up, would you? She's speaking again."

He was right, she was. Hermione's gasp was amusingly audible, her voice even more so.

"Challenge accepted? Challenge _accepted_? Are you daft? I'm not an object for you to play with, or a score for you to settle! I'm a living, breathing person, and if I say I'm not interested, I'm not interested!"

George frowned as her voice grew in shrillness. He didn't like the sound of that. If someone thought they could force themselves on his favourite anal-retentive witch, they'd have another thing coming.

"From her as well. Can you imagine Hermione Granger putting up with any type of unwanted attention?"

George wasn't able to answer his twin, as at that moment, Hermione let loose an angry shriek and slammed the door shut. George could just make out loud laughter echoing through the wood. Her agitated muttering preceded her as she stalked towards the bed.

"And that's my key to leave," Fred said. He chuckled when George's head snapped towards him, looking slightly panicked. "Don't worry, I'll be back. Or are you just dreading facing a riled up Hermione?"

"A touch of both, I think," George answered with a gulp. His eyes flicked to the approaching witch and then cut back to Fred, staying locked on the redhead.

"Yeah, mate, I _am_ coming back," Fred stated quietly, answering the silent question. "You don't think I'd leave now, just when things are getting good?"

"Nah," George answered with a small smile, relief making his bones melt. "Not the brother I know."

"Too right," Fred agreed. "In the meantime, how about you check out some of the birds around the place?"

"Birds? Birds are no use to me, Forge," George said. Fred grinned and raised an eyebrow.

"Who said anything about you? I'm dead, brother. Gotta get my kicks somehow, don't I?"

With this statement, George blinked and his twin was gone, the space he'd occupied empty, making it seem like he was never there in the first place. He sighed, the loneliness swelling up again and washing away the humour brought on by his brother's last comment. Lethargy tugged, and body heavy, he lay back down on the floor as one Miss Hermione Granger got steadily closer, grumbling all the way.

"He thinks he knows me better than I know myself, does he? Arrogant git. What right does he have to tell me my own feelings? Challenge accepted indeed. I'll hex him six ways from Sunday the next time he says something like that, see if I don't. Bloody, annoying… George?"

He thought about ignoring her, but the panic in her voice made him feel a little guilty. Another sigh escaped when she called his name again.

"Down here, Hermione."

"George! What in Merlin's name are you doing down there?" Hermione demanded as she rounded the bed. "You've got a perfectly good bed; you should be in that-"

She cut herself off as her eyes widened comically. "You answered me."

"That's what people tend to do when spoken to," George pointed out. He grimaced internally at the dullness in his voice. Without Fred beside him, the world was grey again.

"Yes, yes, but you haven't been," Hermione said with an impatient wave of her hand. "You've been shut down for nearly two days." She crouched down beside him and frowned, her gaze running over him in much the same way Fred's had. "I was bloody scared you weren't ever going to come back."

A ghost of a smile crossed George's face, lighting his eyes briefly. He forced himself up a little and cocked his head.

"Aww, 'Mione, I didn't know you cared," he teased. The witch flushed and rose again.

"Yes, well, enough said about that," she muttered. "Now, get up you, and get back into bed. The floor's too cold to lie on." She prodded him with her toe when he didn't move any further. "Come on, George, stop dillydallying and get your bum into that bed."

It was clearly an order, and because she was right, the floor was surprising cold, George pushed himself to his feet. He swayed slightly when all the blood left his head in a rush.

"See? You're not well enough to be out of bed. Get in there and then you can take your potions."

"Oh look, it's mum," George grumbled as he slowly climbed onto the mattress. Hermione ignored him, fussing with the covers until they were wrapped around his legs sufficiently. She then picked up a few small bottles and handed them to him in silence, brows raised.

George's glare was a bit pathetic, but he still felt he got his point across. Hermione pursed her lips and took his hand, pushing one of the bottles into it, making George pull a face. Okay, maybe he hadn't. But since he felt like a decrypted old man at the moment, and knowing that the medicine would probably help with that, he scowled just because he could and drunk the first potion. It was disgusting, as were the other five he was forced to take. His glare was a lot stronger by the time he'd swallowed the last one.

"You're trying to poison me, aren't you?" he accused. Hermione's lips twitched and she shook her head.

"All done?" she asked. George put down the offending bottle and nodded.

Only to shrink back when Hermione smacked him upside the head. Repeatedly.

"Oi! Stop it!" he yelped as he covered his head with his arms and curled up into a ball. "What was that for?"

"For making a stupid decision and getting us into a right mess!" Hermione snapped. Her mouth was so thin, it'd bleached white. "We're stuck twenty years in the past because of you, and-"

"Twenty years?" George interrupted, appalled. "We can't be! We were just meant to-"

"I know what we were just meant to, but that didn't happen!" Hermione's anger abruptly drained and she sighed, taking the seat beside the bed. "Instead, we're in 1977. Hogwarts, 1977, to be exact."

"So that's why this room looks familiar," George murmured. His mind was a mess, and the emptiness that was the disappearance of Fred still coloured the world grey. He swallowed, waves of exhaustion making it hard to think. "And you say we're stuck? Can't we use the time-turner to get back?"

"It broke," Hermione said shortly. George's mouth opened, paused, and then closed, and his shoulders sunk. "So what now?" he asked softly. His eyes narrowed when a shaft of excitement ran across Hermione's face.

"Now, we lie about who we are and we do what everyone else here is doing. We go to school," she said primly, and horror spiked through George.

"What?"

"Well, Hogwarts is a school, isn't it? So we become new students with different names." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a bit of parchment. "I even stole the Map, so that we don't get found out."

"Hermione, I can't go to school!" George whined, focusing entirely on the first part. "Already done that, don't want to do it again!"

"What else do you suggest we do until we find a way home? No, we have to do this, but I warn you, it'll be hard. Living with the Marauders will be hard enough, but add Lily Evans on top of that… well, we'll just have to muddle through it."

George started as she drew her wand, pointed it at the parchment and muttered something under her breath, making him suddenly realize exactly what the bit of parchment in her hand was. The Map? And the Marauders…

Merlin's pants!

"Hermione, are you telling me that that piece of parchment is the Marauder's Map and we're now in the same school as the Marauders themselves?"

"Yes," she answered in a distracted tone, more interested in perusing the Map.

"And that Map… you stole it? From the Marauders?"

"Yes again," Hermione said, looking up this time. A tiny bit of pride lit her face. "It actually wasn't that hard, really. Not at all like I thought it was going to be."

"'Course it wasn't," George agreed absently, lost in the fact that he was in the same time period as his and Fred's idols. "They're the Marauders after all. They're kings of the school. Why would they need to hide anything really well? No one would dare steal from them." Amusement made him look healthy for a brief moment, and his eyes focused back on the witch next to him. "Except Hermione Granger, of course."

Hermione grimaced. "Christ, please don't ever call them that to their faces. Sirius's head is abhorrently massive as it is. And it's Brown, by the way. Hermione Brown. You're George Brown, my brother."

A raised brow. "I look nothing like you."

"That's why one of us is adopted. Me, most likely. It'll give me a reason to know about being muggle-born."

She folded the Map up and stuck it back in her pocket, apparently satisfied.

"You didn't clear it," George pointed out. Hermione shrugged.

"No one else but us will be seeing in for an undetermined amount of time, so that doesn't really matter." She leant forward. "We can talk to Dumbledore tonight about classes, and if Madam Pomfrey says it's all right, we can both start tomorrow."

George lay back with a weary sigh as she chattered on, lost in ways of making the best of their short stay in the past. Trust Hermione to be excited about school. Him? He was dreading it.

" _Great way to check out those birds though. And maybe a couple of blokes for you. Only a couple, mind, as this is all about me."_

George looked up. Hermione was still talking, not having heard a thing. Merlin, maybe he _was_ barmy. A rare, slow smile spread across his features at that thought. Add the Marauders to the mix and stir in Fred, even in a make-believe form… he found he couldn't have cared less.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disconnected.** **  
**  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the canonical aspects or characters in the Harry Potter franchise.

 **Warnings:** Female/male and male/male relationships (het and slash). Strong language. Sexual situations and content, both het and slash. Violence. Sexual assault.

 **A/N:** The chapters seem to be getting better as we go on, because there's shit-all rewriting in this one. Enjoy, my lovely readers! :)

 _George looked up. Hermione was still talking, not having heard a thing. Merlin, maybe he_ _was_ _barmy. A rare, slow smile spread across his features at that thought. Add the Marauders to the mix and stir in Fred, even in a make-believe form… he found he couldn't have cared less._

* * *

 **Chapter Seven.**

* * *

Sirius sauntered into the Great Hall the next morning, more than ready to begin his day. Not that he was looking forward to classes; they were the furthest thing from his mind. It was the after and in between that he was anticipating. He grinned as he sat down at the top of the Gryffindor table, his mind replaying the outrage that had poured from one Miss Hermione Brown the day before.

It'd thrilled him that he was able to get such an over the top reaction from her. The way her eyes had lit with fire, her hand all but shaking with her rage… it'd made him want to skip with glee. He hadn't of course. Dancing around like a loon wouldn't have given the right impression at all. But he'd wanted to.

She was just so… entertaining. When she'd shrieked and slammed the Hospital Wing's doors in his face, laughter had ripped from him. He honestly hadn't laughed that hard in months. Hogwarts had been boring recently – not that his fellow Marauders weren't interesting and entertaining. It was just that everyone, his best mates included it seems, was focusing on studying for their NEWTs. And with his three soldiers-in-arms buried in books a lot more than they used to be, it didn't leave much time for fun and pranking. Sirius was finding that he missed it. Sure, he could have joined the other seventh-years and studied as well, but the day Sirius Black picked up a book to study before he absolutely had too, was the day the world ended.

Besides, it wasn't like he needed to study. He got good grades without even really trying, something that annoyed Moony and Evans, and even Prongs sometimes. He'd coasted through the last six years, only really putting in an effort for his OWLs in fifth year – and that was only because Evans had spent half an hour screaming at Prongs about his and Sirius's laziness. James had then decided to try to impress her, dragging his unwilling best mate into the mix as well.

Sirius snorted to himself as he reached for a piece of toast. James's attempt hadn't worked. Evans had just sniffed snootily and left the room when she'd seen them buckling down with quills and parchment. Sirius didn't understand why James thought it would work anyway. Nothing he did ever worked. Not with Miss Goody-Two-Shoes Head Girl.

Although the change of strategy Prongsie was using this year seemed to be producing some unexpected and interesting results…

He shook his head, mood sinking a bit, knowing that James's strategy was in fact, not a strategy at all. He'd changed since his father's death, which was another reason Sirius was so looking forward to the entertainment Miss Brown was sure to provide. The change wasn't noticeable to people who didn't know him, but it was there, making him more serious and downcast then he used to be. Sirius didn't want to push him, but he planned to give him a subtle nudge eventually. He needed to move on from this, not wallow in it, as he was tending to do at the moment. You could only mourn so much - Sirius had done his own share of mourning over Charlus Potter's death himself - before it becomes overly extended and just plain tragic. And besides, the fun-loving old man wouldn't have wanted his son so lost in grief that he forgot to live his own life.

Sirius smirked around a full mouth, excitement making him twitch. Hopefully this mornings, er, _festivities_ would cheer James up. He hadn't told him what he'd planned, but it was sure to bring a smile to the Head Boy's face. The dark-haired wizard's smirk grew just thinking about it, and he was tittering away to himself when he pulled from his thoughts by the very person he was thinking about. Sirius swallowed and grinned up at James, who smiled back and sat down beside him. A silent cheer ran through his head when he saw James's lips curve. It wasn't as big as it used to be, but it was a happy expression nonetheless.

"Morning, mate. Where's the rest of our lot?" Sirius asked, taking another bite. James yawned and nodded his head towards the door.

"Inspecting the bed that randomly showed up in our dorm this morning," he answered, forking bacon onto his plate. Sirius's shaggy brows rose in surprise.

"A bed?"

"Yeah. Just popped into existence out of nowhere next to Moony's. Nearly gave Peter a heart attack. Definitely gave him a sore head when he toppled off his bed in fright."

"Hmm. Maybe it's for that new bloke. Hermione's brother?" Sirius suggested. James shrugged and poked at his eggs before looking up.

"Could be. But isn't he still in the Hospital Wing?"

Remus and Peter arrived before Sirius could answer. Not that he could have given an answer anyway, or even cared. It wasn't the mysterious brother he was interested in.

His sister had already claimed his full attention.

"Figured out who it belongs to?" James asked as they sat down, and Remus shook his head.

"There isn't trunk at the end with a name or anything. But it has to be for George. He's the only new guy we have."

"That's what Padfoot said."

"Okay, enough about the bed. It's a bed, there's nothing special about it," Sirius said impatiently. "Let's talk about the new girl instead!"

He rubbed his hands together in anticipation, a wide, eager smile spreading across his face. Remus glanced over, took one look at him and groaned.

"Merlin, Sirius, already? You've only seen her twice, and the last time she yelled at you!"

"That's a good thing!" Sirius protested. "Means she got spirit, and it'll be all the more fun to tame her!"

Remus groaned again and then looked down the table warily. A large number of Gryffindor girls were within earshot, Lily included. If the Head Girl had actually heard what Sirius had just said…

Thankfully, the redhead was focusing on her breakfast, chatting with Mary MacDonald, none the wiser of Sirius's chauvinistic comment. Remus looked back around when said commenter yelped.

"Oi! What was that for?"

"For saying something like that in front of Evans!" James hissed. "Do you _want_ her hex us all?"

"Chill, she didn't hear me. Why are you worried anyway? I thought you'd gone off her?" Sirius asked in a conniving tone. James frowned and shook his head, but didn't answer.

"You really think it's a good thing, Padfoot?" Peter piped up, moving the conversation back on track. "I think it'd be exhausting."

"Not exhausting, exhilarating," Sirius corrected.

"But with her? Isn't she a little… plain?"

Sirius's eyes widened as he stared at the boy in disbelief.

"Plain? Are you blind, man? Have you seen her?"

"Course I have, I was with you," Peter answered, just a touch of irritation colouring his tone. "I know what I saw, and it wasn't anything outstanding. What could you have possibly seen?"

"Well, her hair for one thing!"

"What, that bush?" Peter scoffed.

"It's not a bush! Open your eyes, Wormtail! She looks like she's spent the entire night being shagged senseless! Bed-hair is undeniable sexy, and Miss Brown looks like she has constant bed-hair!"

"You can't call someone fit just because you like their hair," Peter said with a condescending smirk. Sirius grinned.

"That's not everything, Petey. You really do need to get your eyes checked. What about her mouth?"

"What about it?"

Sirius gaped at the uncaring tone. Peter actually seemed to be more interested in his porridge. He shook his head in astonishment.

"That overbite, mate! How can you not find that sexy?"

"How is something that probably just means she may have had buck teeth in the past sexy?"

The comment stumped Sirius, and not because of what'd been said. He stared at Peter in amazement, both James and Remus mirroring him.

"How do you know anything about overbites and buck teeth?" Remus asked, sounding more than a little surprised.

Peter shrugged, looking smug. "I know stuff."

"Yeah, the best way to peer up a girl's skirt," James muttered, making Remus and Sirius laugh. Peter frowned in annoyance, his rat-like face forming a petulant pout.

"But back on topic. Hermione's mouth. Merlin," Sirius sighed, "I could spend hours concentrating on that mouth alone."

"Only if said mouth doesn't bite your head off first," Remus commented with a smirk. Sirius grinned back at him and waggled his eyebrows, his mind straying to other types of heads, and mouths, and _hmm,_ _a gentle nip would be just the thing,_ he mused.

"So, what, the girl's fit because you like her hair and mouth?" Peter asked, drawing Sirius out of his fantasies. His mate nodded before sighing again and shaking his head.

"Oh, my dear Wormy, you have so much to learn," he said forlornly. "Don't you know that every bird's fit in her own way? It's not _always_ outer, sometimes you have to dig the charm and the mystery up from under the surface. There's always a story to them. That's what makes them all so interesting!"

"And makes it so much easier for Padfoot to have a sample of them all," James said with a grin. Remus chuckled and Peter smirked.

Sirius's bound-to-be-agreeable answer was interrupted as whispers began to fill the Hall, heads from all four tables swinging around to crane towards the door. Sirius looked over to see what all the fuss was about, and felt his face break into a wide grin. McGonagall was striding towards their table, and trailing behind her was Miss Brown. She was dressed in Gryffindor robes, her just-shagged hair tied back in a plait that looked like it was going to escape its confines any moment. She was a glorious sight, and Sirius jumped up eagerly.

"Merlin. That's her brother?"

Sirius glanced at James at his whisper and then looked back towards the door, noticing then that his Hermione wasn't alone. Walking behind her was a tall redheaded bloke. He was incredibly skinny, enough that combined with his height made him look concave and stooped, his robes drowning him, but it wasn't that that had Sirius frowning.

It was his eyes. They were a bright blue – or the colour should have been bright. It was instead, dull and faded; vast; empty. Lost. Immense sorrow swam through his gaze, unashamedly clear for the world to see.

The pain in his eyes hung around him like an aura, giving him a fragility, as if a soft breeze would knock him over. The arms folded across his chest didn't do much to change that opinion. He was clutching at his ribs, as if he was trying to hold himself together. Pair all that with the gauntness, the ghostly pale skin and the bags under his eyes big enough to house a Hippogriff, you really didn't get the impression of overall health and wellbeing.

The man looked like he was going to keel over any second.

"He looks better," Remus murmured, and James, Sirius and Peter all whipped their heads around to stare at him in shock.

" _Better?"_ Sirius hissed. "How is _that_ better?"

"He's put on weight," Remus whispered and Sirius eyes narrowed thoughtfully. His friend seemed to be focusing rather steadily on the redhead. His gaze followed the man as McGonagall and the two newcomers stopped by the table.

"Everyone, this is Hermione and George Brown," the professor said, addressing the students. "They're new seventh-year students who have been sorted into our house. I trust you will make them feel welcome."

She turned to Evans, who was standing up.

"This is our Head Girl, Lily Evans, and I hear you have already met our Head Boy," McGonagall said with a sniff. James smirked and stood as well.

"I have, George hasn't," Hermione answered, smiling at James and Remus and only sparing Sirius the briefest of glances. The wizard grinned and leaned casually back in his chair.

"I'll handle the rest of the introductions, Professor," Evans said and McGonagall nodded.

"Good. I'll see you all later this afternoon then." She looked at the newcomers. "You two see me after classes and we'll sort out your possessions."

Hermione nodded and sat down beside James – Evans looked slightly put out at this, but didn't say anything – her brother sitting beside her. Sirius looked past James and wiggled his fingers at her.

"Top of the morning to you, Miss Brown," he said cheerfully. Hermione's eyes on him were stony for a moment, before her gaze cut away in a clear dismissal. It made Sirius chuckle and had Evans rolling her eyes as she held her hand out across the table.

"Hi. I'm Lily Evans, Head Girl. If you need anything, just come to me," she said. Hermione seemed to go still for a second when she looked at Evans.

"Um… yeah, hi, Hermione Gr-Brown," she mumbled, shaking her hand and quickly breaking eye contact.

"Gr-Brown?" Sirius queried with a grin. A flick of brown eyes showed that the witch's expression was now anything but flinty.

"My second name is Grace," she muttered. Sirius's head tilted curiously, recognizing a lie when he heard one.

"Our parents drilled manners into us from a young age, including introducing ourselves by our full names," the ghost-boy beside her said suddenly, looking up from his kippers. "The last time we did that with a group of teenagers, the ribbing was endless."

He held Sirius's gaze for a couple of seconds before looking down, and the raven-haired wizard frowned. That hadn't sounded like a lie. It'd sounded weary and decidedly indifferent, but had held a ring of truth.

"Was that at your last school?" Alice MacMillan asked and Hermione looked at George, who continued to stare at his plate, absently pushing his breakfast around with his fork.

"No," she answered with a sigh. "We were home schooled up until now. We travelled from place to place all the time, and our parents wanted us with them."

"Why come here then?" James asked. Once again, it was Hermione who answered.

"We wanted a formal education-"

"You wanted," George murmured.

" _I_ wanted," Hermione corrected, looking at her brother quickly, "but Mum and Dad wouldn't let me go on my own. So they sent George as well."

"They wouldn't let you go on your own?" Sirius repeated, brows reaching his hairline. "That's not overprotective at all. How old are you?"

"Eighteen…" she trailed off, her eyes on the Prophet a student was reading across from her, the date clear. Surprise flickered across her face. "Nineteen. I'm nineteen."

"You don't know how old you are?" Sirius joked. The witch threw him a glare.

"We've been extremely busy these last few months; I only just realized what the date is. I'm nineteen."

"Isn't that a little old to be going to school?" Peter asked, then blinked at the black look he received.

"No," she said shortly. A slightly awkward silence settled over the group and Hermione turned to her brother.

"Don't just play with it, George, eat it," she said quietly. Her brother ignored her, still pushing the food around. Her lips thinned and she picked up a tray of hashbrowns, dumping some onto his plate.

"Eat!" she ordered. George looked up.

"I'm not hungry," he said mildly. Hermione folded her arms.

"I don't care. You need to eat, so eat."

George just looked at her, face stoic.

"Don't make me make you."

George's brows jumped at that comment, and for the first time since he'd walked into the Hall, a little life flittered into his eyes. They brightened and a knowing, smug smirk crossed his face as he leaned closer to her.

"I'd like to see you try, sister dear."

A tiny sound, like someone choking, drifted across the table. Sirius glanced over absently, to see Moony staring at George like a stunned mullet as the redhead all but dared his sister to do her worst. Sirius coughed and nudged James, who followed his gaze, eyes popping behind his glasses. He grinned.

Sirius kicked out his foot, catching Remus in the shin. The werewolf jumped and blinked, the dazed look clearing from his eyes, the expression on both Sirius and James's faces making heat surge up his neck. He looked down again quickly, and Sirius sat back with a smirk, folding his arms, pleased that his suspicions had been confirmed.

Well, well. Moony had a crush. He chuckled to himself as the endless possibilities tumbled through his mind. This was going to be fun!

"Are you two really brother and sister then? You don't look alike," Peter asked out of the blue, chewing on a toast crust, his empty porridge bowl sitting at his elbow. Both George and Hermione looked over at him, making him shrink back a little. Hermione's expression was once again far from friendly, and Sirius's mind began to spin anew. It was like she'd hated the shortest Marauder at first sight. What did she have against Wormtail?

"Yes, we are," she said in a curt tone. "Not that it's any of your business, but I'm adopted."

"Oh," Peter said, and then shrugged and went back to his breakfast. Sirius shared an exasperated look with James. On the other hand, he could sort of understand her dislike at times. Would Peter ever learn the meaning of tact?

"Huh."

The quiet grunt drew everyone's attention. George was staring up at the ceiling, his brows pulled together. Sirius frowned as he watched him, looking up at the ceiling as well. What was he…? He started as he remembered, and quickly cast a _tempus_ , grinning at what he saw.

George abruptly drew his own wand and with a flick of his wrist, conjured an umbrella. He opened it and held it over his head.

"George? What are you doing?" Hermione asked as Sirius's mouth fell open, the time fading from the air. How did he know? How did he-

The first enormous drop fell two seconds later. It hit Lily Evans on the shoulder, staining her robes vomit green. She looked down in confusion and then suddenly began shrieking as a torrential downpour of goop began to pelt down.

The Hall erupted, chairs scraping back, screams filling the air, frantic hand waving accompanying most of the feminine voices, and even some of the masculine. Hermione squeaked and jumped to her feet as the goop bathed her hair and robes, sliding down her cheeks and dripping from her chin to pool on the table and floor. She and everyone else in the Hall gaped in astonishment, dinnerware and schoolbags going up over heads in a pathetic attempt to protect their owners.

Through it all, the Marauders sat and grinned, their uniforms soaking up the sticky stuff as rapidly as everyone else's. Sirius knew he could have protected himself and his mates, but since it was only he who had set up the prank, he felt his brothers needed to feel its effects as well.

"Very nice, Padfoot," James praised as he ineffectively wiped his glasses, smearing them even more. Peter giggled and Remus shook his head and sat back in his chair to wait for it to end. The instigator cocked his head and smirked in acknowledgement, the smirk transforming into a puzzled frown as his gaze fell on the only person in the Hall who wasn't downing in goop. George sat at the table with a ghost of a smile on his face, the gunk safely sliding down over the umbrella.

Sirius's eyes narrowed as he watched the redhead. He pursed his lips in thought, quickly spitting out the goop that began to invade his mouth. Hmm. It seems Hermione wasn't the only interesting Brown sibling to come to Hogwarts after all.

Who was George Brown, and how the bloody hell did he have prior knowledge of what Sirius had planned?


	8. Chapter 8

**Disconnected.** **  
**  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the canonical aspects or characters in the Harry Potter franchise.

 **Warnings:** Female/male and male/male relationships (het and slash). Strong language. Sexual situations and content, both het and slash. Violence. Sexual assault.

 **A/N:** Once again, very little has changed in this chapter. It's becoming a theme, lol. ;) Read and enjoy, and do remember to let me know what you think!

 _Who was George Brown, and how the bloody hell did he have prior knowledge of what Sirius had planned?_

* * *

 **Chapter Eight.**

* * *

"POTTER!"

"Hey!" the boy with the smeary glasses shouted back indignantly. "It wasn't me!"

"BLACK!"

"Is she going to make the rounds do you think, or just settle on me?" a very young Sirius Black joked, his shiny hair now not so shiny as it soaked in the goo. George let out a huff of laughter, the sound lost in the shrieks and squeals filling the Hall. He shook his head, quite content to watch a goo-covered McGonagall stalk towards them from under his umbrella.

"Looks like you're in for it now, Padfoot," the chubby, runty-looking boy chuckled. He looked familiar, but George couldn't place him. He shrugged internally, not really caring enough to make the effort to find out who he was.

"Nah, Minnie loves me," Sirius answered lazily, leaning back in his chair. He didn't seem to mind that the foreign substance was slowly creeping under his shirt.

"SIRIUS BLACK! STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!"

"Can't you do it yourself, Professor?" Sirius asked, all innocence, and George had the pleasure of watching McGonagall go red with rage under the green.

"You… you… BLACK!"

"It's all right, Minerva, it's Vanishable," Dumbledore tried to placate, approaching the table as well. He turned to look at Black with an amused twinkle in his eyes, seemingly not worried about the gunk dripping off the end of his nose. "Although I'd rather it stop soon, before the Hufflepuff first-years drown."

George glanced over and once again laughed quietly, watching several eleven and twelve-year-olds in robes lined with yellow, fumble around blindly and fall over and over into large puddles of goo. Black grinned and held up his hands in surrender. He pulled his wand out of his robes and muttered something inaudible, pointing it at the ceiling.

Just like that, the downpour stopped.

Sirius shared a smug smile with James – who looked so much like Harry, even George noticed – but the glory-filled look quickly fell from his face as George watched his 'sister' prowl towards the instigator.

"You ignorant prat," Hermione growled, and George smiled again, memories of when she'd reacted the same way to him and Fred filling his mind. "Do you really find this funny? It's cold and sticky and not everyone knows how to Vanish! You could have ended up making people sick!"

"Now, Miss Brown, calm down. I assure you, no one will end up in the Hospital Wing because of this," Black smirked.

"No, but _you_ are going to end up in detention," McGonagall seethed. "Tonight and every night for the rest of the month!"

"What? Aww, come on! Over a little harmless goo?" Sirius protested loudly as he jumped to him feet.

"But, Professor! We've Quidditch try-outs coming up soon! That's the only time we have to practise!" James exclaimed as he too got to his feet.

"Well, he should have thought of that beforehand, shouldn't have he?" McGonagall snarled. She narrowed her eyes at Black and pointed a sharp tipped finger. "Tonight, my office, eight on the dot. Do not be late, or it'll be longer!"

"Merlin, that woman needs a good shagging," Sirius muttered angrily as the professor strode away. George laughed silently.

"Are you volunteering, Sirius?" a sandy-haired boy asked, his tone flooded with amusement. George didn't recognize him either, but there was once again something familiar about him. It was much stronger this time.

"Dear Godric, _no!"_ Sirius blanched, horror dominating his features. "I'm not the one to do it, that's for sure!" He suddenly turned and cocked a brow at Hermione, who was standing at his side with her arms folded across her chest, now looking particularly smug.

"I'm more than willing to help _you_ , though, love," he suggested with a deliberate leer. Hermione's face rapidly morphed into a look of disgust, though if it was over the offer or just the person offering, George couldn't tell.

"Not in a million years, Black," she said snidely, before spinning around and stalking away. The redheaded Head Girl and her friends followed her, throwing the Marauders angry glares as they exited the Hall. Sirius shrugged.

"Guess she didn't want my services," he commented before pursing his lips in thought and grinning at his mates. "Just have to change her mind then, won't I?"

 _Ah, the Marauders. You really do have to get to know them, Georgie. If not for your own sake, then for mine. It is the only way I'm ever going to spend any time with these heroes, you know._

 _Fred! You're back!_ George thought, his umbrella lowering as he concentrated on the voice in his head.

' _Course I am. Said I would be, didn't I?_

 _You weren't there last night,_ George murmured quietly. His arm went to his chest, the ache that the prank had briefly dispelled coming back with a vengeance. He sighed. He didn't want to think about last night.

He should have known he wouldn't be able to keep the nightmares at bay. He'd fallen asleep well enough, only to wake screaming three hours later. And on top of that, he'd woken Hermione as well, who had then insisted on staying awake with him when he couldn't make himself go back to sleep.

It had resulted in a grumpier then usual witch, and a wizard who wanted to do nothing more than sink down into himself again. He ached from the inside out and interacting with the world and other people seemed like too much of a trial. He wanted to bury himself under the covers and stay there forever, only functioning when he had to.

 _Come now, Gred, that's no way to make the most of this experience!_

 _Maybe I don't want to make anything of anything,_ he thought, the words soft and tired.

 _Yeah, mate, you do._

George sighed again and stood up, the Hall quickly emptying around him. He followed the mostly-green students out into the school, only intent on getting through the day as painlessly as possible. He was heading to the dungeons for potions – the Headmaster had suggested they take only a few core classes, as they weren't supposed to have a wide range of previous education, an idea that had set Hermione right off – when he heard his name being called.

"Hey, George, wait up!"

The redhead turned to see four still-covered boys running after him, Sirius at the forefront. They skidded to a stop about two feet away and the prankster folded his arms and lifted a brow – which looked very weird stained a deep, swamp-gunk green.

"How did you know it was going to happen?"

 _Oooh, what are you going to do now, Georgie Porgie?_

 _Georgie Porgie?_ George repeated in disbelief.

 _It's a name in a muggle nursery rhyme Dad told me about. I think it suits you. You know, kissing girls and making them cry and all._

 _I've never snogged a girl in my life, so how can I make them cry?_

' _Cause they're settling for a substitute, Gred,_ the voice in his head stated with an audible grin. _You know it's really me they want to snog, not you._

 _Whatever you say, Forge,_ George agreed in a soothing tone, unable to stop a tiny smile from playing across his lips. Everything just seemed brighter with his twin around.

"I didn't," he answered Sirius aloud.

"But you conjured an umbrella. You must have," James pointed out.

"I knew _something_ was going to happen, just not what."

"All right, but _how_ did you know?" Sirius demanded. "Not even Moony knew, and he's usually needed as the brains behind the operation."

"Oi! What about me? I'm smart, aren't I?" James whined, once again indignant, but George wasn't listening. He was stuck back on the nickname.

 _Moony! That's who he is,_ he thought as he stared at the sandy-haired boy. Moony's - one of the Marauders - real name was…

He froze as the truth sunk into his consciousness. _Merlin's balls! I pulled my wand on Professor Lupin!_

 _That's Professor Lupin? Wow. What a difference a couple of decades make, eh? He's got less than half the scars he had when he taught us!_

 _And he's definitely a lot better looking now._ The observation came to him as an afterthought and he didn't pay much attention to it other than that, forgetting in his shock that his brother could hear everything in his mind. He groaned silently when his head suddenly rang with mirth-filled guffaws.

 _Oh Georgie, that's bloody brilliant! Go back to the past and fall in lust with your teacher! Absolutely priceless! George and Lupin, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!_

 _Another muggle nursery rhyme?_ George asked dryly as Fred continued singsong-ing.

 _Something like that! First comes love, then comes marriage…_

 _Shut it, you git._

He scowled half-heartedly as the laughter continued.

"George? Hey, George! GEORGE!"

The laughter cut off abruptly and George blinked, looking back at the foursome in front of him. He scowled again, this time for real.

"What?"

"You didn't answer the question," Sirius said very slowly, as if talking to a young child. Professor Lupin – Remus – scowled as well and smacked him on the arm. The Black wizard frowned at him.

"He doesn't have to answer if he doesn't want to," Remus said firmly as he glared at his friend. George's brows rose in surprise.

"Yes he does! I want to know how he knew!" Sirius pouted.

"Then you can ask him again later, can't you? We've got to get going if we don't want to be late-"

"You've only got one ear!"

The loud, blurted sentence shut Remus up and made the group turn to stare at the boy who had announced it. George grinned slightly as the runty boy shrunk back from the stares, his pasty face turning the shade of a tomato very quickly.

"Great observation skills you've got there, mate," George said, tone as dry as the sand in Egypt he gotten more than enough of on the family's holiday there before fifth year. Although to be honest, he was a little surprised the boy had seen it when no one else had so far. His hair was long enough to cover his ears, after all.

"He does?" Sirius asked and both he and James turned to gawk at the redhead, who rolled his eyes and held up his hair, showing them the scar that now resided where his ear used to be. They both looked suitably impressed.

"How'd that happen?" James asked curiously.

"Cursed off," George answered shortly, not going into detail. The boys' faces shone with a need to pry further, but fortunately none of them pushed, the chubby one included. They wouldn't have gotten more anyway. George was too tired to come up with any more on the spot lies.

Remus reached out and tugged at James's robes. "We really do need to get going, or we'll be late."

"So?" Sirius answered. "It wouldn't be the first time. I'm not going anywhere till he tells me how he knew!"

George sighed. "Fine. You want to know? All I had to do was look up. Enchanting an enchanted ceiling? Too easy."

"Is not too easy!" Sirius spluttered. "It took me all bloody weekend to figure out how to do it!"

George couldn't help smirking a bit. "Then you need more practice, don't you? Now, I really must be going. Class to attend and all, you know."

 _Well done brother,_ Fred whispered in his head as Sirius's mouth fell open and both James and Remus laughed. George accepted the praise with dignity, and with a small wave, turned on his heel. He could hear the Marauders muttering behind him, Sirius the loudest, as they too left to go to class.

"George!"

He stopped and turned to see Remus running after him. A zing of awkwardness shot through him. Merlin, he was going to have to apologize, wasn't he? He grimaced and ran a hand through his hair. Apologies weren't the twins' thing, so he launched right into it to get it over and done with. No need to extend the torture.

"Remus. Look, I'm, ah, I owe you an apology for pulling my wand on you the other day. I shouldn't have done that. So, er... sorry."

The redhead cringed as he tripped over his words. He wasn't used to apologizing at all. But he'd learnt during the war that to pull your wand on someone and mean it was a very serious thing. He'd done it a number of times in school and no one had had a problem with it - well, nearly no one, teachers didn't count – but in the real world, especially one at war, it was a completely different story.

"Don't worry about that," Remus said as he waved his hand in dismissal, making George blink. "You weren't well. I know you wouldn't have done it if you'd been thinking straight."

"Do you?" George murmured, his eyes narrowing on the boy. He hadn't expected that answer, though come to think of it, he probably should've. Professor Lupin had always let him and Fred away with a lot more stuff than the other teachers. Not that they'd played up much in his class. They'd been too fascinated.

 _Were you fascinated with the lessons or with the teacher, Gred?_

He deliberately ignored the voice in his head.

"Um… here," Remus continued in a mutter as he pulled something out of the pocket in his robes. George stared, nonplussed, at the two sausages and the apple he held out to him. "Most of the food got slimed and your sister's right. You really do need to eat as much as possible if you want to get better quickly."

George silently accepted the food, more than a little bewildered. Professor Lupin had always been kind, but that was when he knew the people he was being kind to. This version didn't know George from a bar of soap.

"Thank you," he said softly and a pleased smile spread across Remus's face, making his sea-green eyes brighten. George blinked again and shifted uncomfortably, something he hadn't felt in a long time stirring inside him.

"Make sure you eat them," the werewolf ordered before wishing George a good day and running off after his friends. George frowned down at the cold breakfast foods, turning again and continuing towards the dungeons.

He didn't even notice that he was doing what he been told and eating them, until there was nothing left but grease and a browning core.

~0~

The rest of the day wasn't as interesting as its beginning. George found out that James and Sirius were in potions with him, as were Hermione and Lily, the Head Girl. He frowned when he realized that the two Marauders must have taken a different route to get to the dungeons – one he didn't know about.

 _We'll just have to fix that right quick, eh brother?_

George nodded before remembering that no one else could hear Fred, and that he must have looked like he had a tick or something. After that, he ignored any comments his brother made, which was surprisingly easy to do, as most of them were complaints at how easy the assignments were.

George had to agree. He and Fred had mastered most of this stuff the summer before their first seventh year, as much of it they'd used while constructing their products. Therefore, he finished his potion before most of the class, only Hermione and Lily beating him.

It set the tone for the remainder of the day's classes. George would either zip through his work, or not do it at all, just not having the motivation. He even managed to catch a nap in Binns's class, the History of Magic teacher just as boring as ever. That really hadn't been the most brilliant idea. Only Fred shouting his name had prevented him from bolting awake in the middle of class, screaming his head off, as his sleep was once again invaded by nightmares.

As a result, he wasn't in a very social mood when Hermione sort him out to find out how his first day had gone. He was sitting at the top of the Astronomy tower, staring out over the grounds and clutching his chest. Fred had been silent since History of Magic, and George desperately wanted him back, if only to stop the constant pulse of pain through his heart.

He looked over, face blank, as his 'sister' sat down beside him and placed a bowl of beef stroganoff in his lap. George knew he'd missed dinner, but couldn't bring himself to care.

"Eat," she ordered. George looked down at the stew and then looked back over the grounds, paying no attention to the food. Hermione sighed but didn't press.

What she did do was start up a constant chatter, talking about anything and everything, trying her hardest to draw the silent wizard into a conversation. George listened a little bit but mostly ignored her, the sound of the words buzzing in his ear like an irritating gnat. He frowned as she just kept going. Couldn't she see he wanted to be alone? Did she always have to stick her nose in all the bloody time?

"…and then it took everything I had not to hex that bloody Pettigrew, insolent little git-"

"What?" George barked as he suddenly focused on her, cutting off her words. "What did you say?"

"Um… I wanted to hex Pettigrew?"

"Pettigrew? _Peter Pettigrew?_ He's _here?_ "

"Yes, of course he is, George," Hermione said quietly. "He's a Marauder, after all."

George shot to his feet, the hole in his chest filling as rage began pumping through his blood. The _runt!_ That's why he'd looked slightly familiar! A vicious snarl ripped from him as he headed out the outer entrance and flew down the stairs. He was going to tear him limb from limb!

"George, stop! Where are you going? What's wrong… Oh! Oh no!"

George's legs were longer then Hermione's, but the witch had both speed and stamina. She quickly caught up with him, shouting his name repeatedly as she followed. George didn't hear a thing apart from his pulse pounding in his ear.

But he certainly felt something slam into his back.

He hit the ground hard, his chin slamming into the concrete of the courtyard, the skin breaking. He roared in anger and began to struggle, flipping over onto his back with Hermione on top of him.

"GET OFF ME! I HAVE TO KILL HIM! HE HAS TO DIE!"

"Oh God, please George, calm down! You can't _do_ this! You can't change the past!"

"CAN'T CHANGE THE PAST? HE KILLED FRED!"

A sob burst from Hermione as she pushed at his shoulders as hard as she could, George doing his best to buck her off. The small number of students that were milling around stopped to stare in horror and blatantly rubberneck. One ran inside to get help.

"You're right in a roundabout way, but you can't go after him, George! Please listen to me, please!"

Suddenly lying down, she pressed her entire body down on his, holding him in place that way, and put her lips against his ear, so as not to give away anything more of what they were fighting about.

"You do this and what happens instead, George? Ginny dies? Or Ron? Or maybe Harry? How about the whole Order? You could be handing the war over to Voldemort with a single action!"

" _I don't care!"_ he hissed. Hermione shook her head frantically.

"Yes, you do. You do!" she insisted when he growled. "You're just grieving at the moment. Please, please, don't do this. Think of the big picture. You want to have a home to go home to, don't you? Please, George, think!"

 _She's right, mate._

George's struggles slowly calmed and finally ceased as he stared up into her desperate eyes.

"He killed Fred."

The pained, despairing whisper drew forth another sob from the witch above him.

"I-I know, I know he did, and so many others as w-well," she whispered as tears streaked her cheeks. "And I promise that he'll pay for it somehow. But not n-now. Not here. We'll get him; I swear it, but later. When we know what we're doing."

George closed his eyes.

"He killed Fred."

And with that, he curled up into a ball and wept.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disconnected.** **  
**  
 **Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the canonical aspects or characters in the Harry Potter franchise.

 **Warnings:** Female/male and male/male relationships (het and slash). Strong language. Sexual situations and content, both het and slash. Violence. Sexual assault.

 **A/N –** A bit more rewriting in this one, as well as a bit added in to explain George's feelings about Peter, something I got questions about both in the original story and from the last chapter. Remember, it's best to ask me on tumblr (sableunstable) if you need a question answered. I _will_ answer there, whereas it's likely you won't get a response from me via review reply. I suck, lol. And speaking of reviews, thanks everyone so much for the wonderful support! May it long continue! ;)

 _George closed his eyes. "He killed Fred." And with that, he curled up into a ball and wept._

* * *

 **Chapter Nine.**

* * *

Hermione wasn't sure how long she sat on the cold concrete of the courtyard, rocking George while he grieved. Her focus was entirely on him and the sound of his distress, loud in the cool evening air, but she did eventually notice that the crowd around them had swelled, more and more people coming out of the school to gawk and whisper to each other. She was glaring at them all, angry at them for turning a person's pain into entertainment, when Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey pushed through the crowd.

The matron crouched down beside the devastated wizard, silently looking him over. She looked up and smiled gently at the girl holding him, reaching out to pat her on the shoulder.

"This is a good thing," she murmured. Hermione bit her lip and shook her head in despair.

"But his grief… it's so _heavy._ How can it be good?" she whispered.

"It's good because he's letting it out. He never stood a chance of moving on while he kept all this inside. He might find himself feeling less burdened in the morning."

"So we just let him cry?" Hermione asked, astounded. The mediwitch nodded.

"Yes. It's the best thing for him. If it gets any stronger than this I'll give him a sedative potion, but for now the best thing would be for him to head to bed and try to get some sleep."

"He won't… he won't lose himself again?" the younger witch asked hesitantly. Madam Pomfrey looked thoughtful for a moment and then shook her head.

"I can't give you a definite answer, but no, I don't think he will. Releasing bottled emotions is healing most of the time, not detrimental. We just need to get him inside and away from this crowd. A warm bed and some privacy will do him the world of good."

Hermione sighed softly in relief and slowly drew her arms back. Laying down on her stomach, she crawled up next to George, so that only he and the matron would be able to hear her.

"George? We need to get you up so we can head inside okay?"

By now, his sobs had tapered off until all he was doing was shuddering, his eyes squeezed shut tight. He didn't give any indication of hearing her. Either that or he was ignoring her, which was actually more likely.

"George? Please, you'll get sick if you stay out here," she whispered, brushing his hair back. He tensed at her touch before curling up tighter.

"Do you need another stretcher?" a quiet voice asked and Hermione looked up. Remus was standing a couple of feet away, the rest of the Marauders and the Head Girl not far behind him. They were watching George with various expressions of sympathy and shock – all but James that is. He was staring at the ground, his hands fisted at his sides.

"No," she answered, absently noting the way Lily was inching closer to James and hovered behind him, her expression twisted, as if she was arguing with herself. "If we can just get him up, he'll walk. It's the getting up that's the hard part."

"No it's not. That's easy," Sirius said with a shake of his head. He squeezed James's shoulder and then strode over to the couple on the ground, hustling Hermione out of the way with the toe of his shoe. She glared up at him and got to her knees, blinking when he pulled a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and handed it to her.

"You're crying," he said before turning to George.

Hermione blinked again, for the first time realizing that her lashes were freshly wet. She hadn't even noticed the tears still blurring her eyes. She wiped her cheeks quickly, annoyed at herself, and both annoyed and surprised that this younger version of Sirius Black would be so thoughtful. She'd expect it a little from the adult him, but not from this… this _flirt._ She glared again and her hackles went up when he moved in close to George.

"What do you think you're-"

She stopped abruptly and her mouth fell open as Sirius bent over, grabbed George round the middle and hauled him to his feet. It didn't even look like he'd put any effort in. He just tugged up and George was off the ground.

 _Merlin, he's strong,_ her mind whispered, unable to keep herself from admiring the way the muscles in his arms rippled as he lifted, noticeable due to his rolled up sleeves. The thought startled her, then lead to her scoffing silently at the silliness of it. The man wasn't strong! George was thin and carried hardly any mass at all – she'd held him down herself, for goodness sake!

Scowling to herself, she watched Sirius shift George – who wasn't protesting being lugged around at all – and wrap the wizard's arm around his neck. Remus stepped forward and positioned himself on his other side.

"All set, Poppy," Sirius said with a grin. The matron rolled her eyes and turned to look at McGonagall, who so far had been silent. The deputy headmistress nodded and turned to the assembled crowd.

"I trust you all know the curfew is in an hour, and I know that most of you have will still have homework to complete – Mr Barnes, you've finished your essay, I take it?"

The boy whom the formidable woman had singled out, jumped and flushed, looking down quickly. "Umm, not yet, Professor."

"Then you shouldn't be standing around, should you? That goes for you too, Mr Lewis!" she rebuked, shutting up Barnes's snickering friend instantly. "The lot of you, inside now! If I find anyone still roaming the halls in forty minutes' time, they'll get a week's worth of detention!"

The crowd grumbled but slowly began to move, most people trying to crane their necks to keep George and his helpers in sight. Hermione stood up and sent the professor a grateful glance. The older witch replied with a single nod.

"You know where he's going, boys?" McGonagall asked.

"Yeah, a bed appeared this morning, so it safe to assume he's in our room," Remus answered.

"Good," the professor said. "Straight there then, no stopping along the way."

"Where would we stop?" Sirius asked innocently. McGonagall narrowed her eyes at him.

"I know you haven't forgotten that you're supposed be in detention right now, Mr Black," she said. The handsome wizard smirked at her.

"Hey, I'm being a good samaritan, which is a strong enough reason to skip your lovely presence this one time, don't you think, Professor?"

Hermione frowned in irritation and got to her feet. She was tired and emotionally wrought, and could he not be serious even once? Every situation didn't call for a bloody joke!

 _He's always Sirius, love._

And now her exhausted brain was coming up with stupid, overly-used jokes of its own!

 _Oh, come on, lighten up a little, Hermione! He's helping George, isn't he? You could at least be grateful for that._

The witch's frown grew, begrudgingly acknowledging the point. She sighed and turned back to the Head of Gryffindor as the older witch snorted rather inelegantly. "That gilded tongue of yours is going to get you into trouble one day, Black."

Sirius's smirk widened. "It already has gotten me into a lot of trouble, Professor, and I've enjoyed every minute of it."

McGonagall opened her mouth to reply as James chuckled weakly, only to be interrupted by Remus.

"As much fun as this bantering is, don't you think we should get moving? It's getting colder out here by the second."

Hermione readily agreed, shivering as a strong gust of wind suddenly blew out of nowhere, a physical echo of his words. She followed the three boys as they began to move, walking next to Madam Pomfrey. McGonagall, James, Lily and Peter brought up the rear.

"If he _does_ go under again?" she asked the mediwitch softly as they headed for Gryffindor tower. Madam Pomfrey's smile was kind.

"Trust me, Miss Brown; I'd be quite surprised if he did. But you can keep an eye on him during the night if it makes you feel better."

Hermione's spirits lifted a little before quickly falling again. That would be a lot easier said than done. George was bunking in the seventh-year boys' dormitory, while she was on the other side of the tower, in the girls' dormitory. While she didn't mind invading their space – she had done it already after all, even if it was without their knowledge – she thought the Marauders might have something to say about it.

Sirius especially.

Her mouth pulled, lips pressing together firmly. Well, they'd just have to get over it. She was _not_ leaving George alone. They were in this unfortunate situation together, and they would face the ups and downs together. Whether he liked it or not, the redhead was stuck with her.

Hurrying to catch up with the boys, the unusual group stopped at the common room entrance, the Fat Lady looking on curiously as she swung open. Hermione smiled at the mediwitch and her Head of House, thanking them softly.

"Just make sure he eats and he should be fine," Madam Pomfrey said with a pat on the arm, before telling the younger witch to call her if George needed anything, then turning and heading back to the Hospital Wing. McGonagall stopped Hermione as she began to follow the others through the portrait hole.

"We still need to sort you and your brother some mufti clothing and other possessions," the Scottish woman said. Hermione's eyes went wide as she remembered that they were supposed to meet the Transfiguration teacher that evening.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Professor!"

"It's quite all right, Miss Brown, you've had other things on your mind," McGonagall said with a glance at the still open entrance. "Come see me tomorrow, and we'll organize a trip to Hogsmeade. If Mr Brown is up to it, that is."

"He will be," Hermione answered, a determined slant to her mouth. The professor's brows rose.

"Yes, I'm sure he will. My office tomorrow after dinner, and we'll-"

"Are you two going in, or am I just hanging here open for no reason?"

"I better go," the young witch muttered with a glare at the back of the portrait. The professor mirrored her, sending the portrait a miffed look before nodding.

"Tomorrow after dinner," she said before turning and headed back down the corridor. Hermione quickly stepped through the entrance, ignoring the "finally," from behind her. She veered off to the right and, not paying attention to the eyes she felt on her as she crossed the common room, headed up the stairs to the boys' dormitory.

No one answered the door when she knocked, but an airy voice called out, "Come in if your gorgeous!" Sirius looked up and smirked when, after rolling her eyes, Hermione opened the door and walked in.

"And modest too, I see, Miss Brown," he observed. Hermione did her best to pretend he didn't exist and walked over to the bed that hadn't been there the day before. George was sitting on it with his fists resting on his knees, staring at the floor. Sirius was leaning against his bed by the door, James was over by the window, half turned away from the room, Remus was hovering beside George's bed, and Peter… well going by the pulled curtains around the furthest away bed, he'd already retired.

Hermione sneered silently. Good riddance. She didn't want his input anyway, and George definitely wouldn't.

She sat down on the bed without saying a word and took her brother's hand.

"I'm fine, Hermione, you don't have to stay," George muttered, without looking at her. She pursed her lips and squeezed his hand, and the redhead sighed and looked up. His eyes were red-rimmed and hollow.

"My bed's warm and comfy, and available to spend the night in if you do," Sirius offered, standing up straight and losing his smirk when both Remus and Hermione sent him black looks. "Okay, okay, I was only joking. Blimey."

"I know I don't. I'm going to anyway," the girl answered, turning back to George. The redhead's smile was brief, but at least it was there.

"In a room with four other boys? Think of your reputation, sister dear."

Hermione snorted. "Since when have I ever worried about a trivial thing like my reputation?" she asked with a raised brow and a smirk. Sirius let out a slight choking sound and Hermione looked over to see him grinning broadly. She frowned, then turned away in dismissal.

"Never," George murmured.

"Exactly. So I'm staying."

"But-"

"No buts!"

"Hermione, you really don't have to," Remus said softly. "He has four of us here to look out for him." He glanced over at the closed curtains and frowned. "Well, three anyway."

Hermione hesitated, looking from face to face. Remus's was kind, his eyes moving from her to focus back on George. She smiled to herself and looked over at James, who was still half turned away, almost distancing himself from the conversation. Her head cocked and she studied the boy curiously.

James's face was blank but for his eyes. It seemed painful memories haunted the Head Boy, an expression she'd seen in his future son's eyes more times than she liked to count. But if he was anything like Harry, and she thought maybe he might be despite not knowing him terribly well, then we wouldn't let a little reluctance stop him from doing what was right. Harry had to get that trait from somewhere after all.

Her eyes fell on the last person, and Sirius's brows rose when he met her gaze head on, a lazy grin making his grey eyes dance. She didn't know how she felt about him; wasn't sure if she could trust him as far as she could throw him. But one thing she did know was that he was loyal to his friends. Remus had said he would help, so he would, not wanting to let one of his best mates down.

Finally, she glanced back at George. The redhead was swaying slightly, his eyes barely open. One look told her he wouldn't be awake for much longer. His outburst had drained him and sleep was calling. With the others in the room, he'd have people there for him if he needed it. She really didn't need to stay.

Reaching out, she brushed back the hair that was falling in his face, startling him into awareness. She grinned at his indignant look.

"You need a haircut, brother," she said and George huffed.

"I do not. It's fine the way it is," he said in a voice that was very close to whining. Hermione's grin widened when his protest showed that he was back on an as even kilter as he could be at the moment.

"Whatever you say, George," she placated, indulgence coating her tone, before standing up and putting her hands on her hips.

"Come get me if he needs anything, and I do mean _anything,_ " she said, addressing the other boys. George opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione held up her hand, and surprising, he closed it again.

"You have our word," Remus said, James flicking a look over and briefly nodding in agreement. The witch looked at Sirius, who threw her a languid grin.

"Oh, I'm _always_ willing to visit a girls' dormitory, love," he drawled, winking at her. Hermione shook her head, doing her best to ignore the automatic twist in her belly. The way he used those smoky eyes of his should have been illegal.

"Right, I'll leave you lot alone then," she said, heading for the door.

"'Mione."

Hermione stopped and looked back at George, brows winging at the intensity in his eyes. He certainly looked wide-awake now.

"I'm holding you to your promise."

Confusion ran through her, and she cocked her head, wondering what he was on about. Her eyes went very wide and she blanched when it hit her. In her desperation to stop George from attacking Peter, the future traitor who'll more or less set everything on a course that'll eventually lead to Fred's death, she'd promised him that they'd make sure he got what he deserved. It didn't matter to George that he wasn't a traitor _yet_. All he could see was someone who he could lay all the blame on. Someone physically in front of him that he can make hurt, just like he was hurting.

Granted, Hermione couldn't help seeing it that way as well. But she'd never _act_ on the anger and disgust that burnt through her every time she looked at the boy!

 _See? Just because your book smart, doesn't make you street smart._

Scowling at her mocking thoughts, she pushed them away and hurriedly tried to think of a way out of the predicament. George must have realized what she was doing, because he scowled as well.

"You can either sit back and watch me or help me, sister. Either way, it's happening."

"What are they on about?" Sirius asked James in a loud stage-whisper, who was looking a lot more interested.

"Don't know, but whatever it is, I want in."

"I second that," Sirius agreed and both boys turned to look at Hermione expectantly. George sent her a tired, somewhat triumphant grin. She sighed.

"We'll talk about that when the time comes," she said, scooting around making any sort of commitment. George sent her a pointed look that told her he knew exactly what she was doing, earning a grimace.

"Goodnight," Hermione called over her shoulder as she rushed from the room and down the stairs, shaking her head at her own brainlessness. Sweet Morgana. Now what was she going to do now?

~0~

Back in the Marauders' room, a short, chubby, rat-like boy was listening avidly from behind his closed bed-curtains. When the plain, bossy witch left – and she _was_ plain, no amount of spinning on Sirius's part could change that – he brought his knees up to his chest and rested his chin on them thoughtfully, ignoring the sounds of his dorm mates as they reluctantly pulled out their homework or got ready for bed.

Hmmm. Now this was interesting. The new students – which was suspicious enough anyway, since when did Hogwarts ever let in new students? – were clearly up to something. Something they didn't want the others to know about.

He sighed and stretched, idly scratching his arse, before laying back on the bed, a slow, almost malicious smile spreading across his face. Well, he'd just have to see about that, wouldn't he? Being the smallest, least interesting person in a well-known group came in handy at times. It was surprising what you could pick up when people were used to ignoring you.

His new friends _–_ important people, they were, which finally meant he was getting the recognition he deserved – would be very pleased with him if he was able to sniff out any information that might stop an unexpected bludger from coming out of the blue and wrecking their plans.

Grinning in anticipation, he closed his eyes and fell asleep imaging the well-earned awe and gratitude that was bound to be coming his way very soon. His dreams were good that night.


End file.
